The Thawing
by mellowship
Summary: Chuck never knew his heart could beat until he saw Her. Chuck's first encounter with Blair. AU, CB. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**The Thawing**

_Chuck never knew his heart could beat until he saw Her. Multi-chap about Chuck's first encounter with Blair. AU, CB._

**Disclaimer:** Don't own, don't sue.

**xoxo  
**

Chuck sips his scotch as he surveys the crowd at Serena's latest party. He's never been one to socialize with the lowly masses, and even though each and every attendee is wealthy beyond their means... Well, no one is good enough for Chuck Bass.

Chuck's eyes scan the crowd, falling on a pretty red-head with green eyes, freckles dotting her pale skin. He fucked her probably four or five days ago and as Chuck recalls, she was a terrible lay.

_What do you expect from a virgin_, Chuck thinks as he throws back the last of his beverage. He can't help but smirk.

Out of nowhere, a tall, hot blonde with legs that go on for miles crosses his path. Chuck grins deviously. He's definitely had those legs behind her head once or twice, and Ms. Blondie certainly didn't disappoint.

He orders another glass of scotch.

A plethora of beautiful dark curls quickly catches Chuck's eye. They belong to a petite girl whose back is turned to him, her green Herve Leger dress complimenting her slender curves perfectly. Chuck has never been with her. He would certainly remember fisting _those_ curls as she went down on him.

_Tonight, then_, Chuck decides with a smirk as he starts towards the brunette. He doesn't get far, though, because the second the curly-haired girl turns around, Chuck stops in his tracks.

She is the most beautiful creature he's ever held witness to. Her lips are pink, plump, inviting, her eyes two dark gemstones set in the creamiest milky white skin he's ever seen. Chuck knows right then he has to have her.

The elusive beauty suddenly matches his gaze, and Chuck thinks that he might drop dead right there on the floor. But before he can, Chuck notices the glistening wetness threatening to drop from the goddess' eyes.

_How could someone so beautiful be sad?_ he wonders. In Chuck's opinion, the only things needed to to achieve happiness are looks and money, and obviously this mystery girl has both.

He has yet to find an answer when the girl suddenly turns on her heel and begins to make her way towards the exit and out of his life.

Chuck drops the glass on floor, forgetting to pay as he pushes through the crowd, keeping his eyes locked on those tantalizing curls all the while.

He catches the girl right as she is stepping into a taxi. Boldly, he grabs her upper arm. "Let me take you home," Chuck implores, sounding more desperate than he intends.

"Get your hands off of me. I know who you are, _Chuck Bass_," the petite brunette hisses as she tries to pull away from him.

Chuck doesn't relent. "You know who I am. Good. So, then, enlighten me. Who are _you_?" His eyes bore into hers and Chuck can tell the girl is wrestling with herself, trying not to answer him.

To his relief, the beauty steps towards him and away from the taxi. Chuck lets her arm drop; he's gotten what he wants. "Why do you care?" she sasses haughtily, throwing her hands on her hips.

"Because I'd like to know the name of the girl I'm bringing home tonight," Chuck responds with a smirk. Oh, how Chuck wants to ravish her on the spot. But he can't. There's something different about this girl, something that draws him to her like a moth to a flame.

"You're a pig!" the girl snaps.

Okay, a very temperamental flame.

Chuck shrugs casually. "I meant I was dropping you at your place. It's not my fault your dirty little mind thought otherwise," he says nonchalantly. On the outside, Chuck looks cool, collected, and confident. Inside, his heart is threatening to burst out of his chest. He half-wonders if she can see the outline of his heart through his suit.

"Whatever," she replies, rolling her eyes. She pauses for a couple of seconds before adding, "I'm Blair Waldorf, if you have to know."

Blair Waldorf. So that's the name of this ethereal woman, this otherworldly divinity that's captured Chuck's heart and damn near melted its icy exterior. The last name sounds familiar – Chuck's pretty sure some wealthy fashion designer with the same surname lives in New York.

_No matter_, Chuck thinks. Leaning in towards Blair, he whispers lowly into her ear, "Well then, _Blair_, let's get you home."

"Fine," Blair agrees, before crossing her arms defensively and adding, "But only because you made my taxi leave."

She tells him her address and he guides her to his limo, opening the door for Blair. Chuck is amused as he watches her position herself at the far end of the seat.

Blair notices Chuck eyeing her. "What's with that stupid grin on your face? You look like an idiot," she snaps, annoyed.

Chuck's smirk remains firm. "Tell me, why haven't I seen you around the Upper East Side? Clearly you're a woman of good breeding." His hungry eyes scan Blair's figure from head to toe.

Blair snorts in disbelief. "You're disgusting. No wonder you have such a bad reputation around here." She crosses her arms and gazes distractedly out the window. She says with a distant voice,"And it's none of your business as to why you haven't seen me here. I don't even know you."

Chuck raises an eyebrow. He knows he's hit a sore spot. "And I don't know you, Blair, but I would like to. Tell me, did you get sent off to boarding school like Serena? Or perhaps you've done a stint in prison?"

He thinks he catches a glimpse of a smile as Blair shrugs, nonresponsive. Chuck decides to take a softer route this time. "You had been crying earlier at the party. Why?"

Blair stiffens. "Why do you care?" she mutters.

Why does he care? "I don't know," Chuck answers truthfully, "I just do." Chuck inches closer to her, gauging Blair's reaction. She doesn't seem to mind, let alone notice, as she stares at the passing buildings, deep in thought.

Minutes pass and the two sit in silence, Blair watching the blurred city lights and Chuck watching Blair. Suddenly, the silence is broken. "You shouldn't," Blair whispers. "No one cares about me and neither should you."

Chuck is floored. How could someone so perfect think that she is unloved? If he didn't know any better, Chuck would think that perhaps _he_ is in love with her, right in this moment. He doesn't know Blair's life and doesn't want to offend her, so he takes a few seconds to search for a proper answer. "Now somebody does," Chuck says softly.

Blair slowly turns her head, eyes watering, her expression unreadable. "I used to live in Paris, with my father. He died of cancer a few days ago, and now I feel like I inherited his disease. I feel sick without him. My dad's the only person who ever worried about what happened to me. Because I'm bul–" she stops suddenly, before amending her words. "When I would get sick, he would always take of me. My mother would never do that for me and now here I am, forced to live with her. I haven't seen her in years and now all of a sudden she's sending me to these soirees and forcing me to get to know everyone when I haven't even had time to mourn my dad. 'The world doesn't stop turning when someone dies' she told me. I think it's just her way of coping, but it doesn't help me."

Chuck's breath hitches in his chest. He is both captivated and saddened by Blair, by her story that lets him see more and more of her with every new word. He reaches out to take her hand, surprised when Blair doesn't reject his touch. "My father acts like I don't even exist. My mother is dead. And everyone in the Upper East Side thinks I've got herpes." He adds in the last part on purpose, hoping it will make Blair laugh, and to his relief, it does.

She giggles, her laugh like tiny jingling bells. "Well, do you?" she asks with a small grin.

Chuck shakes his head. "I'm filthy but I'm not that filthy," he smirks.

Suddenly, the two realize that the limo has pulled up to the curb at the Waldorf penthouse. The two stare at each other in an awkward silence, neither one knowing what to say.

"Thanks for the ride," Blair says quickly, her cheeks flushing.

"You're welcome," Chuck replies just as quickly. He curses under his breath as he fumbles at the door handle, finally opening it and letting Blair out of the limo.

Blair stands on the sidewalk as Chuck leans on the limo door. They catch each other's stare again.

"Bye," Chuck says.

"Oh, right. Bye," Blair returns before turning around and walking rapidly towards the building's entrance.

Chuck taps his forehead on the top of the door. Goddamn did he mess that goodbye up. He could have kissed her, gave her a hug at least. But no, he says "bye". This Blair girl is really fucking with his head.

And for once, Chuck doesn't want it any other way.

**xoxo**


	2. Chapter 2

**The Thawing**

_Chuck never knew his heart could beat until he saw Her. Multi-chap about Chuck's first encounter with Blair. AU, CB._

**Disclaimer: **Don't own, don't sue.

**AN: **_Well, all of you fantastic reviewers have convinced me to make this a multi-chapter fic! Woo! Thank you all so much for the reviews. Reading them was the best part of my day! I hope you guys like this chapter!  
_

**xoxo**

After Chuck drops Blair off, he goes to the Victrola. The image of Blair's face is burned in his mind and Chuck is certain that there's no way to erase it. As he lounges on the plush couch, enjoying the buzz his scotch brings to him, Chuck watches the burlesque dancer slithering around on stage and contemplates her appearance. He never hires women that he wouldn't fuck (because he eventually does), but this chick is hideous compared to Blair.

His phone suddenly vibrates and Chuck flips it open to see a Gossip Girl blast.

**Spotted: A long-lost Waldorf getting a ride home from Chuck Bass. I hope C didn't give her anything else!**

Chuck smirks and swishes the amber liquid in his mouth. Now the whole Upper East Side knows that he was the first to enjoy Blair's company. But how is this even possible? How could Chuck Bass be attracted to someone based on more than looks? He's supposed to be a womanizer and a user, not some teenager with a crush on a stranger.

_I'm being an idiot,_ Chuck thinks as he watches the woman on stage dance. He figures she'll be easy enough to seduce, and Chuck needs something to make him forget about Blair.

**xoxo**

The next couple days pass quickly and Chuck still can't take his goddamn mind off of Blair Waldorf. The burlesque dancer from Friday is an excellent fuck and so is the rail-thin model from Saturday, but for some reason, Chuck is still not satisfied. There's something missing inside of him that Chuck never before realized was there.

Chuck blames Blair. He's never had a problem that casual sex couldn't cure, but this issue is definitely not going to be quelled by a couple of strippers.

He decides to pay Blair a visit in the morning. It can't hurt, Chuck figures, and maybe he'll even get lucky.

**xoxo**

Chuck takes the elevator up to the Waldorf penthouse and knocks on the door. He's let in by a plump maid with rosy cheeks and looks around the tastefully decorated penthouse, impressed. He wishes he had a mother to use her touch on his suite.

Chuck's eyes are drawn towards a figure at the top of the staircase. At first glance, Chuck thinks it to be Blair, but quickly realizes the woman standing with her arms crossed has a much harsher disposition. Chuck presumes it to be Blair's mother and can't help but see why Blair is not the woman's biggest fan.

"Who are you?" Blair's mother asks crossly, as she walks down the staircase.

"I'm Chuck Bass," Chuck replies with a smirk.

"Oh, Charles. Yes. Eleanor Waldorf," Blair's mother introduces herself coldly. "What do you want with my daughter?"

Chuck supposes that it would be inappropriate to say he wants to bend her over the table. His heart beats wildly at the thought. "I'd like to invite her to a party I'm having this Friday." There is no party, of course, except for maybe the one between the sheets… Chuck tries to shake the image out of his head.

Eleanor frowns. "Blair's unavailable."

Chuck furrows his brow. "Well if I may, I'd like to ask her anyways."

"No, Charles, she's _unavailable_. She is in a serious relationship and her boyfriend is transferring to St. Jude's for senior year," Eleanor scowls. "I've heard things about you and I'll thank you to leave my daughter alone from now on. She doesn't need people like you interfering in her life while she's going through this difficult time."

Chuck's jaw nearly falls to the ground. Never mind the verbal smack-down Eleanor just gave him about what a shitty person he is, but a _boyfriend_? How could Blair neglect to mention that in the limo? Normally, it wouldn't be a big deal; boyfriends have never stopped him from banging a girl before, and it won't be any different this time. It's just that, well, maybe he kinda-sorta hopes that there can be more between him and Blair other than sex. And a boyfriend will definitely prevent _that_ from happening.

"I see," Chuck says, his fists balled deep in his pockets. "Well, Eleanor, I can't promise I'll stay away, because I have this _thing_ for your daughter. If her boyfriend is a formidable opponent then I look forward to the challenge."

He turns on his heels and is making his way towards the door when he hears Blair's voice call his name.

"Chuck? What are you doing here?"

Chuck turns around to see a fresh-faced Blair dressed in a silk violet nightgown, most of her delectable body covered by a light pink robe. Her nose is red; clearly, she had been crying. He gulps and feels his palms become sweaty. Chuck hopes his flustered appearance isn't obvious.

"Blair, go back to your room," Eleanor orders her daughter.

"No, mother," Blair retorts, making her way down the stairs.

Chuck stands there awkwardly, between the door and a furious-looking Eleanor Waldorf. "You're in a relationship, Blair. You have no business with Charles Bass," Eleanor scowls.

Chuck watches as Blair's cheeks grow warm. "He came to see me, mother. The least I can do is give him a few minutes," she argues.

"Five minutes, Blair. I mean it," Eleanor barks, storming up the stairs.

Blair closes her eyes and shakes her head. "I'm sorry about that. My mother can be a little abrasive," she tells Chuck.

"A little? I'm surprised she didn't chase me out of here with a shotgun," Chuck replies casually.

Blair smiles weakly. "I'm guessing she told you about Casey?"

"If that's your boyfriend, then yes," Chuck answers. _Casey? _Casey? _He might as well be named Lisa_, he scoffs inwardly. "The fact you were taken must have slipped your mind when you got in my limo. Not that I blame you, of course. Most girls are eager to forget significant others when they're with me." He smirks.

"Oh, you are repulsive, Chuck Bass. Is there a purpose to your boasting about your immorality?" Blair asks, rolling her eyes.

"There was," Chuck admits, "but I don't really think it's relevant anymore."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Blair asks as she examines her fingernails.

"It doesn't matter," Chuck answers shortly. "Eleanor told me to stay away from you, that you're relationship is quite serious, and that you don't need the likes of _me_ hanging around here."

Blair sighs. "My mother is really overbearing. She likes what she knows of Casey and I think because of your reputation she's threatened by you. "

"Should she be?" Chuck asks, his eyes burning into Blair's. He assumes that if Eleanor weren't upstairs, he'd have her daughter's legs wrapped around his waist.

Blair takes a step backwards and tightens the sash on her robe nervously. "Of course not, Bass! You are here because you are an acquaintance dropping by to say hi, and I am talking to you because that's what acquaintances do!"

Chuck smirks. The sexual tension is crushingly obvious. He steps towards Blair and slinks an arm around her lower back, pulling her into him. "Is this what acquaintances do?" he breathes into her ear.

Blair's arms rest on his chest momentarily before she pushes herself away from him. "Stop it!" Blair hisses. "Besides the fact that I'm with Casey, whom I love very much, you hardly know me and I hardly know you and this is unacceptable. _You and I_ are unacceptable!"

Chuck is blindsided. He originally came to Blair thinking it would be much easier than this to get her where he wanted, and now there are so many obstacles getting thrown in his way that Chuck isn't sure he's equipped well enough for this battle.

"You didn't care about your darling _Casey_ when you let me stroke you in the limo," Chuck growls seductively.

Apparently Blair is not amused because she crosses her arms and all of a sudden she looks like Eleanor.

_Uh-oh. _Chuck swallows hard.

"First of all, Bass, you 'stroked' my _hand_. Quit trying to make it out like it meant something because it _didn't_. I don't even know you! Second of all, the only reason I got in that damn limo in the first place was because you scared the taxi driver off!" Chuck winces. Such a big lung capacity for such a tiny woman. "And third of all, I wouldn't dare touch you with a ten-foot pole since according to you, _most girls_ in New York already have!" Blair throws her hands on her hips as the final touch to her tirade.

Ouch. That last part definitely hits Chuck below the belt. He's taken a lot of shit in his life from a lot of people, but nothing they said ever mattered to him because Chuck never gave a damn about those people. This time, it's different. This time, Chuck gives a damn.

"Fine," he seethes, "since I'm so repulsive to you, I'll leave. You can forget you ever met me." Apparently lashing out is Chuck's defense mechanism. Who knew? He never had to use it before.

Blair sighs. "Chuck..." She touches his arm apologetically.

Chuck jerks his arm back, burning where Blair had just touched him. "I'll see you around, Waldorf," he mutters before walking out the door.

Hurt. It's a foreign emotion to him but Chuck is pretty sure he wouldn't mind if he never experienced it again, because it fucking sucks. He gets into his limo and takes a swig of scotch from his flask. A scowl on his face the entire way home, Chuck tries to figure out what went wrong.

**xoxo**


	3. Chapter 3

**The Thawing**

_Chuck never knew his heart could beat until he saw Her. Multi-chap about Chuck's first encounter with Blair. AU, CB._

**Disclaimer:** Don't own, don't sue.

**xoxo**

Chuck's pissed. It's been a week since he stormed out of Blair's penthouse and she's only been on Gossip Girl one time since; apparently, Serena has taken Blair under her drunken wing.

He takes a drink of water and sets the bottle down before tossing a basketball to his best friend.

"Dude, everything exciting happens when I'm out of the city. Tell me again why you went all man-on-a-mission on Eleanor Waldorf?" Nate asks, releasing the basketball. "Nice! Another three for Archibald!"

Chuck retrieves the basketball and shoots it weakly towards the net. "Damn it," he mutters, watching as the ball bypasses the net and hits the wire fence. "I didn't go 'man-on-a-mission' on her. I simply told her that I was willing to bear bruised knuckles for Blair."

Nate laughs. "'Bear bruised knuckles'? Come on, man, we both know you would hire some beefcake to do your dirty work." He shoots the ball again, pleased as it drops through the net. "Besides, what do you even know about this Blair chick? She could be a closet psycho like Ted Bundy and you'd never know."

Chuck smirks. "Did you really compare an eighteen-year-old girl to Ted Bundy? Let's be real here, Nathaniel. And no, I don't know much about her, but I _do_ know that she's different than any girl I've ever met."

"That's a pretty big statement for someone whose favorite pastimes include getting blow jobs from foreign girls," Nate says with a chuckle.

"I don't get it myself," Chuck confesses. "But I'm almost positive I fucked things up with her, so it doesn't matter anyways." He pulls his orange sweatband from his forehead and drops it to the ground. "I'm done playing. I'm not made for exercise."

"Why do you say that?" Nate asks.

"Have you _seen_ my lay-up? It's terrible," Chuck answers, reaching for his water bottle.

Nate chuckles. "Yeah, it is pretty awful. But I meant with Blair. Why do you think you messed things up with her?"

Chuck takes a long drink of water. "I made a move on her knowing she has a boyfriend and when she got pissed at me, I told her she can forget she ever met me. Not the smoothest way to tell her I like her. "

"She has a _boyfriend_? Well, that's your problem right there, dude," Nate points out the obvious. "But, I mean, you're you and I'm sure you could do her anyways."

Chuck rolls his eyes. "Well, I know _that_. But there's something about her that intrigues me and it's not her looks. I'd like the chance to find out what that is, but this Casey of hers is going to make that difficult."

"_Casey_? Her boyfriend's name is _Casey_? I can't believe a guy with that name is even competition," Nate laughs in amusement, retrieving his phone from his gym bag.

"That's what I said," Chuck remarks.

"Speaking of…" Nate trails off as he reads a message on his phone. "Check this out, man."

Nate hands Chuck his phone and the latter is not pleased when he sees the latest Gossip Girl post.

**Spotted: Blair Waldorf and a mystery hunk walking hand-in-hand. Who is he? You'll know when I know. **

**Until then, XOXO,**

**Gossip Girl**

Chuck shakes his head. "Unbelievable," he mutters.

Sure, Casey has a girly name, but the picture Gossip Girl posts of him and Blair show that he is anything but girly. He's tall, muscled, and bronze, with short, wavy, blond hair. Dressed casual in light blue jeans and a loose white tee, the dude looks as if he could be a model.

What he doesn't look like is the type of man Blair Waldorf would be interested in, Chuck observes. In the picture, she's dressed in to the nines in a honeysuckle Nanette Lepore dress and nude Christian Louboutins. She looks stunning, like a goddess, and in Chuck's opinion, she should be with someone who puts as much into his appearance as she does, not some tanned jerk in ripped jeans and Hanes t-shirt.

"Sorry, man," Nate says.

"Me too," Chuck replies stoically.

The ringing of his phone interrupts Chuck's lamentation. The screen reads **Lily** and Chuck groans. "Hello, Lily," he answers.

"Hi Charles," his former step-mother returns, "I'm calling because I'm making a nice dinner tonight and I'd like you to come. Serena's bringing Daniel Humphrey and of course Eric will be there. It wouldn't be the same without you."

Bart and Lily may be divorced, but that hasn't stopped Lily from including him in van der Woodsen events and parties. Chuck considers Lily a surrogate mother of sorts, and is content to call her, Serena, and Eric his family. After all, while Bart is shacking up with his girlfriend of the month, Lily is inviting Chuck to family dinners.

"Of course. I'll be there at eight," Chuck answers. It'll be nice to talk about something other than curly-haired brunettes.

**xoxo**

"Charles, I'm so glad you came tonight," Lily remarks, pleased, as she steps to the side and lets Chuck inside.

A half-smile flickers across his face as he responds, "Thanks for inviting me."

"Oh, please, Charles, you're my son, and you're always welcome here," Lily smiles warmly before turning towards the kitchen and shouting, "Eric, take the duck out of the oven before it burns!"

She shoots Chuck an exasperated glance. "I knew I should have catered. I hope Eleanor likes her meat dry and crispy."

Chuck furrowed his brow. "Eleanor? As in Eleanor Waldorf?"

"Yes, I invited them over after I called you," Lily says hurriedly as she looks in the hallway mirror and fixes her hair. "Eleanor's daughter is new in town and has been hanging out with Serena. I thought it would be a nice gesture to help her become more familiar with some of the faces around here. She - ERIC! WHY IS THE SMOKE ALARM GOING OFF?!"

Lily neglects to finish her sentence as she rushes to the kitchen.

_Fuck_.

Chuck is officially miserable. He heads straight towards the liquor cabinet and pulls out a bottle of Glenfiddich, convinced that the universe is playing some cosmic joke on him. He pours a glass of the amber liquid and downs it all in one desperate gulp.

"Thirsty much?" Serena asks in amusement as she leans against the doorway.

"Very funny," he says dryly, wincing as the scotch burns his throat.

Dan Humphrey suddenly appears next to Serena, his arm wrapping around her waist. "How's it goin'?" he asks Chuck, with a casual wave, not that he actually cared. The two men couldn't be more different from one another.

"Just wonderful," Chuck answers before downing another glass.

Serena moves from the doorway and Dan follows. They both sit on the couch and Serena leans against Dan's chest, her waves cascading down her shoulders like a golden waterfall. "Seriously, Chuck, what's up? You're drinking mom's liquor like it's water."

"If Eleanor Waldorf is coming to dinner tonight, I'm going to need to be drunk," Chuck says bluntly.

Serena gives him a sympathetic smile. "Yeah, Blair told me you stopped by. I still can't believe you gave her a ride home. That was uncharacteristically nice of you."

"I had ulterior motives," Chuck smirks as Serena shakes her head.

"Tell me you didn't."

"Didn't what? Hike her dress up and fuck like her like a dog in heat?"

"Oh my god, Chuck, ew!" Serena shrieks. Dan chuckles at her reaction.

"He's kidding, Serena," Dan assures her. "At least I, uh, think he is. Right, Chuck?"

Chuck stares into his glass, swirling the liquid absentmindedly. "Unfortunately."

In the background, Erik is helping Lily set the table and Chuck takes this opportunity to stop the current conversation, moving to the dining room and taking a large platter of rolls from Lily's hands. "I've got it," he mutters.

All of a sudden, a knock sounds at the door and Chuck looks for the nearest window. Free-falling can't be worse than the fate that awaits him, right?

"Hello, Eleanor, Cyrus! So nice to see you! And Blair, you look lovely! Come in," Lily greets the family before turning to Blair's boyfriend and extending her hand. "You must be Casey. It's a pleasure to meet you."

The adults exchange pleasantries for a few minutes before assembling around the dining room table. To Chuck's dismay, Casey sits directly in front of him. Chuck glowers as Blair's boyfriend flashes his pearly whites and shakes hands with _his _friends and family.

"Yes, Casey's going to be joining the Erik and Daniel at St. Jude's this year," Eleanor announces, apparently letting the fact that Chuck is sitting at the table slip her mind. "Isn't that right, Casey?"

The blond flushes, grinning. "Er… yeah. Blair and I've been together since grade school, so y'know, I couldn't just let her take off," Casey answers in an English accent.

The adults chuckle as Casey puts an arm around Blair's shoulders. The latter smiles at her boyfriend warmly and Chuck snorts, shaking his head. Serena kicks him under the table, giving him a chastising look. Chuck shrugs innocently and sips his scotch.

"So Blair, how did you and Casey meet?" Lily asks.

Blair scoops a sparse amount of burnt vegetables on her plate and a tiny piece of duck. "I bullied him in sixth grade because he dyed his hair blue. It wasn't the most romantic start to a relationship," she admits with a laugh.

"Hey now, I can't help that I was edgy for a twelve-year-old," Casey adds, "but I eventually wooed her in the schoolyard with an ice pop and a Lanvin headband."

Blair flushes and touches her hand to the blue headband. "It's my favorite to this day," she remarks.

Chuck rolls his eyes. _You've got to be kidding me_.

"Yes, and Casey's parents are quite well-off. His father's the best record producer in England and his mother designs couture in Paris. Quite the luxurious upbringing Casey had, isn't that right?" Eleanor boasts, shooting Chuck a withering glare.

Casey grows red, clearly embarrassed. "Um… yeah, I suppose."

"Mother, stop," Blair interjects.

"Yeah, let's eat," Eric pipes up, giving Blair a knowing smile. "Say, mom, this duck isn't all that bad!"

Lily shakes her head and says with a laugh, "It _is _all that bad. I truly won't be offended if none of you want to eat it."

"Oh thank god," Eric exhales, as everyone at the table sets their silverware aside in relief.

Lily heads into the kitchen and can be heard talking on the phone. "It's Lily… Burnt dinner… That's perfect… Caviar, of course… Thank you so much, John… I will… Okay, goodbye."

Twenty minutes pass and a knock at the door sounds. Lily stands up abruptly. "Thank goodness for friends in high places. Who likes sushi?" she asks before retrieving the take-out from the delivery man. "Freshly made at Nobu by my favorite chef!"

Chuck sits back in his chair as Dan helps Lily clear the ruined food from the table, replacing it with fresh California rolls and other assorted Asian delicacies.

"This is more like it!" Cyrus exclaims enthusiastically. "Not that I didn't enjoy your duck, Lily – it was…"

"Atrocious," Serena finishes his sentence with a laugh.

Chuck doesn't bother to eat. Instead, he watches the interaction between Blair and Casey. She places six rolls on her boyfriend's plate along with caviar, and takes only two rolls for herself, nothing more, nothing less.

"Not hungry, Waldorf?" Chuck can't help himself; he hasn't spoken to her all evening.

Blair looks up at him, startled. "Excuse me?"

Casey smiles. "Blair's always been a light eater," he informs Chuck.

Chuck takes a sip of scotch. "I'm sorry, unless _Blair _has magically turned into a blond-haired Englishman, I'm quite certain that my question wasn't directed towards you."

"Chuck!" Serena hisses at him while Dan pretends to avoid the conversation all together, fumbling with his chopsticks.

"What, sis? I was merely assuming that Blair had a voice of her own," Chuck remarks nonchalantly.

Blair crosses her arms. "I do have a voice of my own, Bass, and to answer your question, no, I'm _not_ hungry because the sight of your horrid green suit ruined my appetite."

Chuck smirks. He's gotten a reaction out of her; that's better than nothing.

The rest of the dinner passes quickly, with the adults chattering about some upcoming social event, Serena being charmed by Dan's terrible jokes, and Casey talking quietly into a glum-looking Blair's ear. Chuck observes Blair shake her head as Casey whispers into her ear, gesturing to her plate.

"How long have you had a thing for her?" Eric asks in a low voice, leaning over towards Chuck.

Chuck looks at Eric, surprised. This kid is the most perceptive human being he's ever met. "Since the moment I first set eyes on her," Chuck confesses.

**xoxo**

_So, how did you guys like Casey? I have to admit, I kind of find his character kind of charming (not as charming as Chuckles, of course). Anyways, a rather important question: would you all prefer the entire story to be in Chuck's POV, or would you want Blair's POV as well? I'm debating about this for the next chapter.  
_


	4. Chapter 4

**The Thawing**

_Chuck never knew his heart could beat until he saw Her. Multi-chap about Chuck's first encounter with Blair. AU, CB._

**Disclaimer:** Don't own, don't sue.

**xoxo**

Chuck decides to excuse himself right before Lily serves dessert - he's attended the dinner, and that's good enough, he figures. The sugary sweet interactions between Blair and Casey are enough to make Chuck want to puke into his Hermés scarf.

In hindsight, it wasn't probably the best idea to embarrass the Brit at the table, but Chuck doesn't really give a damn. At least after he did so, Blair had given him some sort of acknowledgement of his presence.

Chuck strides into the elevator and presses the button for the lobby. Just as the doors are about to close, a thin, white arms juts between them.

"Just what in the hell was that back there, Bass?" Blair asks angrily as she squeezes into the elevator and hits the STOP button, momentarily halting the elevator's movement.

Chuck closes his eyes and rests his head against the back of the elevator. "Waldorf, what are you talking about? I don't have time for this," he replied in a bored tone. Of course, he _does_ have time for this (Chuck has forever) and is anything but bored. Thrilled, ecstatic, jubilant, yes, but certainly not bored.

"Don't act dumb," Blair snaps. "Why did you embarrass my boyfriend in front of not only my mother and Cyrus, but the entire van der Woodsen family? It was rude and uncouth and – "

"Christ, Waldorf, take a breath," Chuck interjects, watching Blair's heaving chest with interest.

Blair follows his eyes and sighs, not amused. "Really, Bass?"

"Force of habit," Chuck shrugs with a smirk.

Blair crosses her arms over her bosom purposefully. "There. Now talk to me."

"What do you want me to say?" Chuck asks casually.

"Sorry! I want you to say sorry!" Blair exclaims.

Chuck shoves his hands into his pockets. "No."

"Excuse me?"Blair asks, incredulous.

"I said _no_," Chuck repeats methodically. "As in, I'm _not_ sorry. You're a big girl, Waldorf. You don't need people speaking up for you," He leans forward, his lips brushing against Blair's ear. Chuck feels her stiffen as Blair's breath hitches in her chest and he just can't resist adding, "Because I know you've got quite a mouth on you that I wouldn't mind seeing open wide."

Blair instinctively turns her head towards Chuck's, their lips dangerously close apart. Her eyes fall to his mouth before quickly rising to meet Chuck's hungry stare and Chuck is almost positive he's sealed the deal. Before Chuck can make his move, Blair forces herself back into reality, and whispers, "Get over yourself, Chuck Bass. Most girls might fall at your feet, but I'm _not_ most girls. If you think insulting my boyfriend is going to get me to change my mind about you, you better not hold your breath."

"And you'd better not hold your appetite," Chuck counters with a gleam in his eyes, recalling Blair's non-meal.

Blair looks at Chuck, momentarily stunned before she regains her cool. "Stop it," she orders him, flustered.

"Stop what?" Chuck asks, feigning innocence.

"Stop acting like you know me!" Blair's hand fumbles for the button on the wall to open the doors and presses it hurriedly.

Chuck smirks. "Then stop acting like you like it."

"Trust me, Bass, I don't," she snaps harshly as she rushes out of the elevator.

Chuck sighs. _Strike two_.

**xoxo**

As Chuck lounges in the back of his limo lazily, he ponders his next move in the chess game for Blair's affection. Casey had mentioned something about a headband and Chuck recalls that the only time he's seen Blair, she'd been wearing one. Chuck decides that a gift might be in order, and while Lanvin is certainly a brand to be reckoned with… well, he's Chuck Bass and he can do better.

The next day, Chuck places a call to a contact in Paris and the task is complete. He hopes Gossip Girl doesn't find out about this; after all, he has a reputation to uphold.

Chuck decides that the best way to give Blair the gift is by way of surprise delivery; with any luck, she'll be wearing it at Serena's end of summer party in the Hamptons next Friday. If she doesn't… well, then he just wasted fifty-two hundred in pocket change.

**xoxo**

Normally, Chuck wouldn't bother traveling all the way to the Hamptons just for a stupid party, but this year, the occasion is different. Even though it's five in the afternoon, it's still eighty degrees outside and Chuck's white linen pants and light yellow button-down is perfect for keeping him cool (because he needs to keep his cool today and a sweaty Chuck Bass is a moody Chuck Bass). He stands outside on the deck and looks around the crowd, quickly spying Serena's locks gleaming under the sweltering sun.

"Hey, Chuck!" Serena greets him cheerfully, springing toward him with two full shot glasses.

"Drunk already, sis?" Chuck smirks, accepting a shot glass from the blond before throwing back the drink.

Serena takes her shot and laughs. "Not quite, but I'm getting there. I'm so glad you came this year… but not so glad you wore that outfit," she teases with a grin.

"We all can't be an inch away from a nipple slip, Serena," Chuck returns, gesturing with his free hand at Serena's barely-there pink bikini, a sheer white sarong her only attempt at modesty. "I can't imagine Humphrey approves of that."

"Humphrey does _not_ approve of that," Dan says as he comes up from behind Chuck, shooting Serena a cross look.

"Oh, come on, Dan, I'm all yours and you know that," Serena smiles, taking her boyfriend's hand. "Besides, don't you want to show off what a hot trophy girlfriend you have?"

A lopsided grin appears on Dan's face as he checks out Serena. "I… uh, well yeah. I kinda do, not gonna lie. When I tell people I have a girlfriend, they usually assume I'm dating some feminist hippie with no hygiene," Dan explains with an apologetic shrug.

"Well, that _would_ be the obvious type for you," Chuck offers.

Dan raises an eyebrow. "Uh… Yeah. Thanks, Chuck. Your opinion is well-noted."

Serena slaps Chuck on the arm. "Don't listen to him, Dan. He's just bitter that he's suffering from unrequited _love_," she says, emphasizing the last word in a sing-song voice.

"Oh, please, Serena, the word _love_ isn't even my vocabulary," Chuck remarks with certainty.

"Oh, yeah?" Serena asks with a smirk as she gestures to her right. "Well since you're so blasé about B, you won't care that she's in her swimsuit over by the pool."

Chuck tries his hardest not to betray his poker face as he casually turns his head towards the direction Serena's alluding to. He fails at feigning indifference when his eyes fall on Blair, who is clad in an emerald green bandeau one piece decorated with an elaborate diamond brooch in the top-center. Blair doesn't ooze sex appeal like Serena, but rather beauty and classicality, two qualities that Chuck value above everything but wealth.

Chuck's poker face is definitely gone, replaced with wide eyes and an open mouth. The fact that Blair isn't wearing his gift bothers him, true, but the sight of her milky thighs oiled up and exposed makes Chuck quick to forget.

"She's taken," Serena reminds him.

Suddenly, Blair's eyes catch his own and Chuck flushes with warmth, only to find himself quickly grow cold when Casey comes up to her with two drinks in his calloused hands.

_Does she know what she does to me? _Chuck thinks to himself, blindly accepting a consolation shot from Serena and downing it quickly.

Blair keeps her eyes trained on Chuck as she accepts a martini from her boyfriend and deviously asks Casey to reapply sunscreen on her neck and back. Casey dips his head low and steals a long kiss from Blair before acquiescing.

Oh, yes. She certainly knows.

_So, Blair Waldorf knows how to play hardball…_

Serena puts a hand on Chuck's shoulder, breaking his train of thought. "If it makes you feel better, she talks about you all the time," she informs Chuck softly.

Chuck narrows his eyes. "She does?" he asks with suspicion.

"Well, not so much talking as complaining about what a perv you are, but it's a start, right?" Serena says earnestly.

"Yes it is," Chuck murmurs thoughtfully.

**xoxo**

By the time eight o'clock rolls around, everyone at the party is good and drunk; girls are half-naked, guys are half-naked… Only Serena could throw a party like this and get away with it. Chuck is certain that Gossip Girl will be sending blasts out about tonight's hook-ups for weeks to come. Thankfully for him, Chuck has been drinking a hell of a lot longer than most of these people and he can handle his liquor better.

Inside the spacious mansion, he spies Serena dancing wildly as usual, Dan awkwardly moving behind her. In some weird way, they fit together, Chuck can admit, despite the height difference and all.

Then there's Penelope and Nate. _Catty bitch_, Chuck observes as she chatters into Nate's ear about how she has the same bikini as Serena and wears it better. He supposes that's why Nate doesn't feel so bad ditching her for Poppy Lifton whenever the socialite rolls into town. Chuck doesn't expect this relationship to last anyways; with Gossip Girl around, Nate's indiscretions almost always come to light eventually.

Chuck breezes past Isabel Coates and Kati Farkas trying to chat up some St. Jude rugby players, and makes his way to outside onto the deck. It's gotten much cooler out, more comfortable than inside of the crowded house. Chuck leans his elbows on the railing of the deck, and, throwing back a double-shot of whiskey, contemplates his efforts.

_Maybe this is all pointless_, he muses, figuring that if Blair hasn't accepted his advances yet, then she never will. Chuck's never had a challenge thrown at him that he couldn't conquer, but this one… well, it seems damn near impossible. He knows that there is a connection between him and Blair, of that much Chuck is sure; he just doesn't know if the connection he feels is reason enough to risk looking like a fool.

Chuck is about to go inside when he hears quiet talking somewhere below the deck. His interest piqued, Chuck leans further over the deck railing and sees Blair and Casey sitting in the grass. Blair had apparently changed earlier, as she's now wearing a yellow sundress and Casey's leather jacket, which appears to swallow her small frame.

"Daddy would hate me right now," an inebriated Blair slurs regretfully.

"Stop that, Blair. Why would you say that?" Casey scolds her softly. "Your dad loved you more than life itself and you know that."

Chuck can spot Blair shivering even wrapped tight within Casey's jacket. "I'm drunk, Casey. _Drunk_! Imagine the news headlines – 'Wasted Waldorf Blows a 1.4.' Daddy would be ashamed," she laments, pulling at the grass beside her.

Casey pulls Blair close to him and rubs her back. "Come on, babe. He would never be ashamed of you. You were his world."

It's silent for a moment and all of a sudden Blair sobs loudly.

Chuck clenches his fists. He is fighting every urge not to go down those stairs and demand Blair stop crying (because angels like her are not supposed to cry and Chuck just cannot handle it).

Instead he turns on his heel and goes back indoors quietly, leaving Blair to be consoled by her boyfriend.

**xoxo**

While the majority of the party guests leave by three or four in the morning, Chuck finds himself sitting in the living room of the mansion alone at five. The only people besides him still here are Serena and Dan, Nate and Penelope, and Blair and Casey. Once again, Chuck Bass is flying without a co-pilot, and truthfully, he's never minded until tonight.

Chuck imagines how difficult of a time Blair must be going through and he does recognize how beneficial it is to her well-being that a stable presence like Casey is in her life. The problem in Chuck's eyes is that Casey and Blair are _too_ perfect together, and perfection can never last for long. Once the crack in the foundation starts, everything else will begin to crumble around her. True, Chuck is no optimist. He is, however, a realist. Chuck knows Blair will eventually fall and that he'll be the one to catch her.

_If she let's me, that is._

The need to piss distracts Chuck from his thoughts. He moves to the bathroom, and as he's tying the strings on his linen pants, there's a knock on the door that really has no point; Blair Waldorf barges in the bathroom before Chuck can protest.

"Get out," she orders weakly.

Blair's face is pallid and sweaty, and if Chuck doesn't know any better, she's going to be sick. Chuck steps aside as Blair falls to her knees and begins to puke clear liquid from the martinis she'd been drinking through-out the day. Instead of leaving the bathroom, Chuck instinctively crouches behind the brunette and gathers her hair behind her head, not moving until Blair finishes. Chuck reaches for a hand-towel from one of the drawers and gives to Blair, who accepts it gratefully as she flushes the toilet and rests her back against the cool white tiles.

"Thanks, Bass," Blair says, after wiping her mouth.

"My pleasure," Chuck returns. "So, Blair Waldorf can't hold her liquor?"

Blair shrugs feebly. "I've always kept myself at a one to two drink limit. Losing control only leads to problems," she tells Chuck, gesturing to the toilet, "as you can see."

"Oh, I saw," Chuck says, amused.

"Ugh. I'm never drinking again," Blair groans, massaging her temples. "I'm serious. You can quote me on that, Bass."

"Humphrey's the journalist, I'm just the checkbook for the newspaper," Chuck smirks.

"Fine, then buy me a hangover cure," Blair complains.

Chuck takes this opportunity to change the subject. "While I didn't buy you a 'hangover cure,' I _did_ buy you a headband. A very _expensive_ headband. I assume you got it?"

Blair flushes. "I did."

"And?"Chuck presses.

"And I adore it," Blair admits, "but I can't wear it. I'm with Casey. It's... it's not right."

Chuck pauses to think. "Fair enough. But I hope you realize that your life in New York can be different from your life in Paris. Change is good."

Blair doesn't answer; she's puking again.

"Sorry," she apologizes between heaves, red from embarrassment.

Chuck smirks, "It's okay, Waldorf. I can do this all night."

**xoxo**

_Real life is deciding to get busy the next few days so chapter 5 will be up by Sunday at the latest, Friday at the earliest. Thanks so much for all of the reviews, everyone! You guys are appreciated to the moon and back! I love hearing what you guys think so keep it coming =)  
_


	5. Chapter 5

**The Thawing**

_Chuck never knew his heart could beat until he saw Her. Multi-chap about Chuck's first encounter with Blair. AU, CB._

**Disclaimer:** Don't own, don't sue.

**AN: **_I added a little more necessary dialogue to the chapter this evening; not much, but some! It's not vital to the storyline but it is between C & B!_

**xoxo**

**Rise and shine Upper East Siders! Today is the start of a new school year, and you all know what that means: New scandals. I'll be keeping my eye on you, boys and girls, so be on your best behavior!**

**You know you love me,  
Gossip Girl**

In the morning, on the way to St. Jude's, Chuck spies from his limo Blair and Serena sitting together on the steps of Constance Billard. Blair looks regal, a large red headband placed carefully in her hair, her manicured fingertips tracing the nutrition label on the back of her yogurt carton. The two friends are perched above the usual Queen wanna-bes and it's clear that Serena has chosen Blair as not only her equal, but also her new best friend.

While Serena is not the brightest of bulbs, she knows a loyal ally when she sees one and for that, Chuck is appreciative. Blair now has partial control of the school, a control that someone like Blair must see as a necessity for social survival. Judging by her poolside behavior at the Hamptons, Blair clearly knows how to take reign over a situation and Chuck imagines that in no time, she will be the one helping Serena get (back) into social graces.

Chuck himself is not looking forward to classes. Last year, the first day of school he got a detention for lighting up in the men's bathroom. The year before that, Chuck was suspended for spitting in a kid's face. Freshman year, Chuck made a name for himself by coming to class drunk and calling the English teacher a haggard old spinster when she called him out on it.

He hopes the first day of senior year will pass a little more smoothly than that of the previous years.

Walking through the doors of St. Jude's, Chuck can't help but wonder if Blair's day is going smoothly, if she's coping with being the new girl alright. He looks down at the paper in his hands that directs him to his locker and finds number 069 with ease. Chuck smirks; he _would _get sixty-nine.

"Hey, mate," a very familiar and very unwelcome voice says to Chuck.

He would _also_ get Casey Jacobs as a locker neighbor.

"Small world, isn't it?" Chuck drawls sarcastically.

Casey throws his jacket into the locker space before tying his thick blonde locks back in a low ponytail. "Certainly is. It seems all paths cross in the Upper East Side," he remarks with a grin. "Although I can't help but notice that if you make one wrong move, you're portions for foxes." Casey gestures to the students scattered in the hallway scrutinizing their cell phones. Apparently, Gossip Girl had just blasted one of the sophomores at Constance Billard for not wearing underwear underneath her skirt. Chuck's mind immediately conjures up images of Blair.

_I could only wish._

"Yeah, well, you'd better get used to it," Chuck says sharply. "And you'd better get used to having short hair because your… grunge lifestyle isn't welcome at this school. If you'll excuse me, I have class now."

Casey rolls his eyes and shrugs. "Alright, then. Nice talking to you, too."

**xoxo**

When Physics comes around, Chuck finds an empty table and moves his seat to the middle of the area, monopolizing the space in a clear attempt to ward potential lab partners off. He doesn't like working with people because, as taught by his father, things operate much more efficiently under the direction of one powerful individual.

The classroom begins filling up, and no one sits next to Chuck. He thinks he's in the clear when the bell rings, signaling the class to start; too bad a certain blonde walks through the door at the last minute.

God, gods, goddesses, whatever the hell's up in the sky, they sure have it out for Chuck Bass these days.

"What's your name?" Mr. Michelson asks.

"Casey. Casey Jacobs," the object of Chuck's loathing answers coolly.

"Well, then, Casey, welcome to St. Jude's. You can sit…" Mr. Michelson scans the room and his eyes immediately fall on Chuck's one-man table. "right there. Next to Charles. Sorry, Mr. Bass, you'll have to be a team player for once."

Casey catches Chuck's glare and shrugs apologetically as he makes his way to the table.

"Alright, class, today I'm going to go through attendance and introduce the syllabus before we jump into displacement and sound waves. Sound good? It better, because you have no choice," Mr. Michelson says cheerfully over the class' collective groans.

Chuck takes his phone out under his desk and accesses the internet to go on Yahoo! Finance. He has no desire to talk to Casey, the boyfriend of the only girl Chuck Bass has ever actually liked. Of course, Chuck also has no desire to verbally own this kid because he doesn't want to backpedal with Blair when he's already scored points with her in the Hamptons. He decides the best way to approach the Casey situation is by not approaching him at all.

It seems Casey is trying to sabotage Chuck's efforts because he leans over and whispers, "Does this guy ever shut his mouth?" referring to Mr. Michelson's current diatribe about some blowhard's recent book arguing for the existence of centrifugal force.

If it were anyone else but Casey, Chuck would probably reply, insulting Michelson in the process, but because it isn't, Chuck keeps his mouth shut and focuses on reading stock updates.

"Or you could keep being a douchebag. It's no skin off of my nose," Casey shrugs, turning his attention to the front of the class.

Chuck shoots him a sideways glare. "I'm not being a 'douchebag', Jacobs, I just don't like you."

_So much for staying quiet_.

Casey furrows his brow. "Why the hell not? What did I ever do to you?" he whispers, baffled.

Oh does Chuck wish he can shut his mouth, but now it's open and the words keep falling out and it feels so damn good. "One, you annoy me, two, you aren't nearly as impressive as you think you are, and three, I don't much care for Kurt Cobain wannabes that smell like patchouli," Chuck replies bluntly.

There is a pause and all of a sudden Casey turns to look at him. "One, Bass, the feeling is likewise, two, you're the one with the superiority complex, and three, this 'patchouli' is Tom Ford, four-hundred-fifty bucks, so I'm not nearly as nineties alternative as you think," Casey counters, his words not matching the calm, collected tone of his voice.

Okay, that's it – Casey's officially made an enemy of Chuck Bass, and as Bart likes to remind him on days that he's not screwing the secretary, _no one_ crosses a Bass. At least with his disdain for Casey revealed, Chuck's cards are all out on the table for Blair to see. There will be no covert mission to steal her from her boyfriend, no reason for Chuck to pretend like he tolerates Casey. Chuck's got his eyes on the prize and everyone on the Upper East Side is going to know it. Yep, as Nate Archibald would say, "it's balls to the wall" at this point.

"Life in this city's going to be a hell of a lot harder for you being on my bad side," Chuck warns Casey in a low voice.

"Charles, Mr. Jacobs? Is there a problem?" Mr. Michelson interrupts.

"No, sir," Casey answers.

Mr. Michelson directs his stare to Chuck, who shrugs nonchalantly. "What can I say? I don't work well with others," he says calmly.

"Well, Charles, you'd better start, and real soon, because these seats are permanent," the teacher informs him.

**xoxo**

The final bell rings at last and Chuck makes it out of his first day of senior year relatively unscathed, despite having Casey as his permanent lab partner. He's striding towards his limo when out of nowhere Eric van der Woodsen pops up in front of him.

"How do you deal with this place?" Eric asks, clearly distressed.

Chuck purses his lips. "Well hello to you Eric. I'm not sure I know what you're talking about. What do you mean?"

"I mean these jocks, Chuck! They're pure evil! I swear I saw Dean Beauregard's eyes glow red in the lunchroom," Serena's younger sibling elaborates as he shakes his head in frustration.

"Who's giving you problems?" Chuck questions Eric, concerned for the teen he calls his brother.

Eric hesitates as his eyes dart around. When he's sure no one's intruding on their conversation, Eric replies, "Uh… Dean," Chuck quirks an eyebrow and Eric clears his throat. "And Scott Wilkins and Pat Mortimer and pretty much the entire rugby team. St. Jude's sucks, Chuck. I hate it already."

Chuck sighs. Eric has it hard enough trying to come to terms with his sexuality; it's even worse that the entire Upper East Side knows. "I'll take care of it," Chuck says reassuringly.

"What? How?" Eric asks nervously, though the relief in his voice is evident.

Chuck waves a hand impassively. "Don't worry about it, little brother. You'll see soon enough."

Eric visibly relaxes and a huge smile spreads across his face. "Thanks, Chuck. I'll owe you one. Let me know - whatever you need! I gotta run though. I told Serena about what a terrible day I had and she insisted I come to lunch with her and Blair. You know, for some girl talk," laughs Eric before pausing and adding, "Hey, why don't you come with me?"

Chuck hesitates before replying, "I don't know about that. Blair's not going to be too happy to know I threatened her boyfriend today."

"Well, you never know, Chuck. Maybe she'll like, be glad to see you or something," Eric offers optimistically.

"I highly doubt that. But fine, I'll go," Chuck relents, secretly overjoyed at the invitation.

**xoxo**

Chuck and Eric pull up to Bergdorf Goodman's and head up to the seventh floor. _Of course the girls would pick lunch in a department store_, Chuck notes, amused.

He lets Eric lead the way into the restaurant and almost immediately, Chuck hears Serena call Eric's name and wave them over to the table.

"Chuck," Serena says with a sly grin, "I didn't know you'd be coming along."

"I wasn't planning on it but I wanted to pick up a new Rolex anyways," Chuck lies, his eyes finding Blair's surprised ones. "Hello, Blair. What a pleasant surprise." He says with a grin, taking a seat to the right of Blair and stretching back in the chair, as if to claim his dominance over the table.

Blair folds her napkin in her lap primly. "Hi, Chuck," she reciprocates dryly, focusing her attention on the menu.

Serena raises an eyebrow at Chuck and shakes her head knowingly. "So Eric, you want me to beat up the rugby team for you?" she jokes, trying to ease the tension between Blair and Chuck.

Eric is not amused. "Just what I need, Serena. My big sister going Jackie Chan on Dean Beauregard. I'd never live it down," he replies. "Let's just talk about something else. I'd rather forget today as soon as possible."

"Aw, Eric, I'm really sorry you had a bad day," Serena tells her brother sympathetically, before biting her lip in thought. "You know, a little shopping therapy wouldn't hurt. I bet they have that Michael Kors jacket E! showed Kellan Lutz wearing!" She rubs Eric's arm encouragingly, and Eric can't help but smile.

"I bet I'd look better in it. I don't have all of those pesky jacked muscles getting in the way," Eric muses, quite serious.

Serena nudges Eric under the table. "Okay, well why don't we go check it out real quick? I mean, what if there's only one left?"

Eric gets her message loud and clear, and coughs. "Uh, yes. What a great idea, sis. Chuck, Blair, if you'll excuse us."

Serena and Eric stand up abruptly and start towards the elevators. Chuck swears he sees brother and sister tap knuckles and immediately realizes that he and Blair have been _had_. Blair seems to be reading his thoughts because she remarks, "That wasn't obvious or anything."

Chuck nods his head in agreement. "I wasn't aware of this happening beforehand, so you don't have to classify this as a 'Chuck Bass concocted scheme' or anything like that. Though, I can't say that I'm disappointed in the company," he smirks.

A flash of a smile graces her face. "I'm not disappointed so much as I am horrified," Blair teases him.

"You love it," Chuck throws back, before waving the waiter over to the table. "Do you know what you want?"

Blair looks surprised. "You mean we're actually going to have lunch together?"

"Unless you're planning on subsisting on Yoplait for the rest of your days, then yes," Chuck answers firmly before looking at the waiter. "Well, for first course, we'll have –"

"First course?" Blair interjects.

Chuck smirks. "Well aren't you full of questions today, Waldorf? Yes, we're getting a first course. We'll have the seared sea scallops, and then I'll have the lobster napoleon. Blair, how about you?"

Blair is clearly stunned. "I… well… I'll have the harvest salad, then. Thank you," she says, handing the waiter her menu. "You, Chuck Bass, are taking advantage of Serena and Eric's little set-up."

Shrugging, Chuck takes a sip of his lemon water and replies, "Of course I am. You wouldn't have had lunch with me any other way, am I right?"

"One hundred percent," Blair replies. "By the way, I'll have you know that Casey texted me earlier. About you."

Chuck's stomach drops. "Oh, yes. Casey. Where is your darling boyfriend, anyways?" Chuck asks, hoping his voice doesn't betray his nervousness.

"He's going to Brooklyn," Blair says, crinkling her nose. "There's this local garage band there he wants to try out for that Humphrey told him about. Casey's an amazing guitarist."

Chuck smirks. "I knew Jacobs had a secret fetish for all things grunge. You should really tell him how little the Upper East Side cares for those type of people."

"Ugh, I don't even want to think about that," Blair groans. "He thinks he's going to have this awesome music career as a rock musician and I really don't think a rich boy singing about problems he's never experienced is going to exactly gain him fans, you know? Casey has so much talent; he just fell for the wrong music genre."

"Wow, that's the most you've said to me in weeks," Chuck says, pleased.

Blair scowls. "Well, if you hadn't been incessantly stalking me then maybe I'd be more inclined to converse with you."

"Oh, please, Waldorf. You _wish_ I stalked you," Chuck counters before changing the subject. "So, what did Eddie Vedder have to say about me?"

"Just about how you're the most self-centered, rude jerk he's ever met," Blair discloses, ignoring Chuck's blatant insult about Casey.

"That's it?" Chuck asks, surprised.

"Well, no," Blair starts. "Casey doesn't want me around you. He says you're not trustworthy."

_Ah, there we go_, Chuck thinks, rolling his eyes.

"Well, Casey's right," answers Chuck. The first course arrives and Chuck takes the opportunity to fill Blair's plate before his own, much to her reluctance. "He shouldn't trust me. Not at all. But you, Blair, can. I promise you that."

Blair looks at Chuck through conflicted eyes. "Casey would never forgive me, and to be fair, I wouldn't want him hanging out with a girl I don't like."

"If your boyfriend doesn't want you around me, then it's not because he doesn't trust me," Chuck says casually, forking a scallop. "I obviously like you, but if you don't reciprocate those feelings, then there won't be a problem. Think about it. "

Chuck's words are obviously lingering in Blair's head as she slowly eats her scallops. Before they know it, the main course is here and Chuck watches Blair as her eyes widen at the sizeable salad placed in front of her. "I had no idea portions were so big here," she remarks almost fearfully.

"They aren't big at all. Eat," Chuck urges, furtively sneaking glances of Blair to make sure she's actually eating and not just sitting there wasting twenty-five dollars worth of leaves.

Blair suddenly looks up from her plate. "Can I ask you a question, Bass?" she asks hesitantly.

"Anything."

"What do you see in me?"

Chuck is taken aback. This is definitely not just a "how is your day" type of question. He pauses for a few seconds to think before replying, "Everything."

Blair quirks a perfectly groomed eyebrow. "Okay, Ms. Cleo, I'm going to need a more specific answer."

"Oh, so now I'm a big black woman? Kinky. I can role-play if that's what you're into," Chuck smirks.

"First of all, ew, Chuck. You're gross. Second of all, seriously, I want to know. What do you mean by 'everything'?"

Chuck sets his napkin on his plate as a sign he's finished. "It's simple, Waldorf. I see everything in you. Good and bad, right and wrong, past and future. You can be both the key to heartbreak and the key to happiness, and I have to admit, you fascinate me like no other woman ever has."

Blair's eyes are wide, her lips parted, her cheeks pink. A surprised Blair Waldorf sort of reminds Chuck of one of those porcelain dolls that are sold in antique shops and bought by collectors with too much money and too much time on their hands. "I… Thank you."

"'Thank you'?" Chuck asks in mock disbelief. "I give you the only compliment I've ever given anyone and and all you say is _thank you?_"

Smiling, Blair slaps him lightly on the shoulder. "Shut it, Bass. I… I just had to know, okay? And now I do, so you can go back to making perverted jokes and I'll go back to rejecting your advances just like before. Okay? Okay."

Chuck gets the check and slips two hundred dollar bills inside the black leather. "So," he smirks, "does this mean you aren't banishing me from your life like Scott Weiland ordered you to?"

It's Blair's turn to smirk. "I wasn't aware you were so brushed up on your grunge vocalists, Chuck Bass."

"I've been hanging out with Nate Archibald too long. What's your excuse?" Chuck grins.

"I've been hanging out with Casey Jacobs too long," Blair shoots back, not realizing what she's just said.

Chuck leans back in his chair with a satisfied smirk. "Yes, you have. Now it's my turn to ask you a question. Why are you so adamant about avoiding me?"

Blair sits in silence for what seems like eternity. "I can't talk about this right now," she tells him.

Chuck picks a piece of lint off of his lapel casually before putting on his coat. "Of course you can. You're Blair Waldorf. You can do whatever you want."

"You wouldn't understand," Blair sighs. "Please. Talking to you today was actually pleasant. Let's not ruin it."

"As you wish," Chuck relents, raising his hands in front of him as a sign of surrender. "But then, I'd like our next encounter not to be orchestrated by Eric and Serena."

Blair blushes, a common occurrence during this particular lunch. "I need to go," she says softly.

Chuck watches her walk away. Before she gets to the restaurant exit, she turns around. "And Bass?"

"Hmm?" he responds.

"I'm not."

Chuck frowns. "You're not what, exactly?"

"I'm not banishing you."

And just like that, Blair is gone.

Suddenly, his phone vibrates and he sees a text from Eric.

**Sry we had 2 trick u. Hope it went well. & srsly... wasn't kidding abt the jocks. **

He'll take care of the jocks; it's the least he can do. Exhaling, Chuck allows a smile to grace his features. He hadn't realized he's been holding his breath so long.

**xoxo**

_I think this might be my favorite chappie. It was so fun to write! Hope you liked the CB interaction and I'll be updating next between Sunday and midweek, just FYI. I wish I could give everyone who reviewed a big ol' hug, but unfortunately I cannot, so, thank you all so, so much! _


	6. Chapter 6

**The Thawing**

_Chuck never knew his heart could beat until he saw Her. Multi-chap about Chuck's first encounter with Blair. AU, CB._

**Disclaimer:** Don't own, don't sue.

**xoxo**

Chuck eyes the clock on the wall in his Physics classroom intently. The sooner the big hand reaches twelve, the sooner he'll be able to get the hell away from this abhorrent boyfriend of Blair's. According to Gossip Girl, that stupid Brooklyn band, Smack, picked the Brit to be their new lead guitarist, and so Casey is especially smug this afternoon.

Chuck sneaks a furtive glance of Casey's paper and almost snorts mockingly at what looks to be lyrics scrawled all over the sheet (something about "apathy" and "burning"). Yeah, it's safe to say, Chuck wouldn't mind doing giving Casey a nice "smack" right about now.

He's about to lean over and comment when all of a sudden Mr. Michelson clears his throat. "Ahem. Charles, why don't you summarize for the class the pendulum problem I just detailed?"

_Goddamn Michelson. _Chuck fixes his lips into a smirk. "My pleasure, Mr. M," Chuck stretches in his plastic chair. He knows the teacher's plan – pick on the student that looks the least focused and publicly humiliate them. Fortunately, Chuck's always been a multitasker. "Well, first, the pendulum needs inertia to get going. You push it one way, it hits a certain point and it's maximally displaced. There's no inertia at that point, just elastic forces. The elastic forces bring it back towards the resting point. Inertia's at its maximum again, as is velocity and so the pendulum swings up the other way. It keeps going back and forth, back and forth," He demonstrates this motion lazily with his index finger before continuing. "Basically, with the absence of resistive forces, once the thing gets moving, it doesn't stop. Ever." He throws a mischievous towards Casey. Might as well give the delusional kid some ammo for whatever angsty song the blond's writing.

"I'm glad to see you've been paying attention, Charles," Mr. Michelson says, trying to cover the disappointment in his voice.

Chuck nods in response and turns his attention to his phone, a daily ritual in Physics class as there's nothing else to do (because who actually cares about sound waves?). "Hey, jackass," Casey hisses in a low voice, "I know what you've been up to, and guess what? It's not happening. Blair wants nothing to do with you."

Ah, insult volleyball – Chuck's favorite new activity.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that, Goldilocks," Chuck returns casually. "I'm everything in this city and you are nothing, especially with those god-awful lyrics you're banking on to jump-start your non-existent music career."

Casey's blue eyes turned icy. "Oh, but I am sure. Blair doesn't go for the Liberace types, nor is she attracted to blokes that shop in the women's department. Not that your scarf isn't absolutely darling," he throws back.

"She doesn't? Then tell me why you're so pathetically scared of losing her to me that you forbade her from seeing me?" Chuck smirks, though the blood in his veins is boiling (come on, it's clearly a violet ascot!).

Casey becomes rigid, his jaw set. "When did you see her?" the Brit asks coldly.

"We had lunch together, actually," Chuck divulges, his tone even and cool. If Blair isn't going to break up with Casey herself, then Chuck is going to take the opportunity to break this relationship up one way or another.

Besides, he's always loved a good scandal.

Casey frowns. "When the hell did you have lunch with my girlfriend?"

"Oh… Monday was it?" Chuck pretends to search for the answer, although he knows exactly when he had lunch with Blair (_it's been 50 hours, 17 minutes, 48 seconds_). "Yes, definitely Monday. I believe you were trying out for that band, or doing something equally unrefined. Blair and I had quite the dining experience. She even let me taste her clam. From her salad, of course."

Chuck watches the Casey's reaction in amusement. Is that steam coming out of his ears? Chuck assumes there will be a price to pay for his little tiff with the blond, in the form of an angry Blair.

It's well-worth it, though. Anything to rock the boat

Or, more precisely, sink it.

**xoxo**

Chuck lounges on Nate's plush red couch as his best friend walks back into the living room with a lighter and a bowl packed with marijuana. "Here, dude," Nate says, handing the bowl and lighter to Chuck. "You can have the first hit. You're gonna need it."

Chuck quirks a brow as he holds the lighter to the weed and sucks in harshly, holding the smoke before releasing it in a huge cloud. "What are you talking about, Nathaniel?" he asks between exaggerated coughs.

Nate grabs the bowl from Chuck and takes his hit with ease. "Serena called me when I was upstairs getting the bud. Didn't you check your phone?"

"I can't. It's dead," Chuck responds suspiciously. "What's going on?"

Nate furrows his brow. "Hmm. Well, let's see. Do you want the good news or the bad news?"

"You sound like a talk show host," Chuck notes with sarcasm. "Tell me, Maury. Am I not the father?"

"Not funny, Chuck," Nate starts. "I guess Blair called Serena and was really upset. That's not the good news, though."

Chuck rolls his eyes. "Thank you, Captain Obvious. If it were, I would hate to know the bad news."

Nate ignores the insult and continues, "Apparently, Casey flipped out on Blair because of you. Like, he thinks she lied to him or something like that. I don't know. Anyways, Blair told Serena to tell Casey that she and you were tricked into eating together but Casey didn't buy it. I guess he's really pissed at her."

Smirking, Chuck replies, "That was sort of my goal when I told him I ate Blair's clam."

"Chuck!" Nate groans in disgust. "Leave her alone, seriously! You've tried your best, man, and she'll come around in her own time."

"I always get what I want, Nathaniel," Chuck shrugs. "You should know that by now."

"Unfortunately," Nate replies with a chuckle. "That French hooker must have really been worth the ten thousand dollar bar tab."

"Oh, she was. But come on now, tell me about this bad news of yours. I can hardly stand the suspense," he says dryly.

Nate perks up. "Oh, yeah! Sorry, man, got off track. Anyways, the bad news is that Blair is furious. We're talking Naomi Campbell furious. I wouldn't be surprised if she threw a stiletto at your head the next time you see her."

_Oh, great. _"I'll be sure to invest in life insurance. How does a billion sound?"

Nate laughs. "Don't worry, Chuck. She's like a hundred pounds. I mean I know you've got the fighting skills of a toddler, but I think you could take her."

"You haven't seen Blair Waldorf mad," Chuck mutters before taking another hit and succumbing to the high.

**xoxo**

Chuck returns to his suite around nine-thirty at night. He's about to pour his first glass of scotch for the evening when loud pounding at the door draws him away from the liquor cabinet. Without bothering to ask who it is, Chuck opens the door to find a seething Blair standing before him. Nate hadn't been lying when he told Chuck that she's furious.

"Chuck fucking Bass, what the hell did you do?" Blair shouts angrily, storming inside without invitation.

Chuck shuts the door and turns to her, his expression that of amusement. "Hello to you, Waldorf," he greets her sarcastically.

In what seems to be the common theme of the day, Blair exclaims, "Not funny! What. Did. You. Tell. Casey?" Her index finger jabs Chuck in the chest pointedly with each word.

Chuck takes Blair's wrists in a light grasp and lowers them. "Calm down. We got into it during class and I brought up how he told you he didn't want you near me. Obviously, he realized I could only know that from you, so he figured we saw each other and I enlightened him. Simple as that."

Blair yanks her wrists out of Chuck's hold and crosses her arms over her chest. "Simple as that? Casey is so mad at me right now! Why couldn't you, I don't know, _lie_? I was under the impression you're quite good at that sort of thing," she snaps.

Chuck takes a deep breath. _Time to lay the cards out_. "Maybe I wanted him to know," he says nonchalantly (though he feels anything but nonchalant).

"You _wanted_ to tell Casey? Why would you do that, Chuck? Why would you do something that you know would upset me?" Blair asks, her voice lowering. "I thought we were on good terms." A buzz would definitely be welcome right now, so Chuck pours a glass of scotch for himself and a gin and tonic for Blair. "Bass, what are you doing?" she asks, watching Chuck with suspicious eyes.

"Take a seat, Waldorf," Chuck suggests firmly, handing a bewildered Blair the drink he prepared for her. "I didn't want to upset you, but listen to me. I'm never, ever going to be complacent with you dating that Backstreet Boy of yours. You know that, and now, so does he. I'm going to be honest with you right now about something."

He watches Blair take a long sip of her gin and tonic and wince. "Enlighten me then, wise one," she comments, unimpressed.

"I don't think you're all too upset right now. I think you wanted to have a reason to be mad at me so you could come over here," Chuck observes, his voice hushed.

"Wishful thinking," Blair retorts, though her eyes remain unreadable. She takes the opportunity to finish the rest of her drink in one long gulp.

Chuck stares at her. "You're lying."

"Excuse me?" Blair asks incredulously.

"You're lying," Chuck smirks. "Your eyes don't match your mouth."

Blair unconsciously raises a fingertip to her parted lips. "But how – "

"I read people, Blair. I'm quite good at it if you haven't noticed," Chuck interrupts. "Would you like another drink?"

"Are you trying to get me drunk, Bass?" Blair questions, her voice wavering between hopefulness and suspiciousness.

Chuck comes back with another gin and tonic. "I only make the drinks. It's up to you if you want to consume them."

"Well, since you already made it…" Blair trails off, sipping the beverage slowly. "Look, Chuck, I don't want any trouble between you and Casey. I'm dealing with losing my father and… I just can't handle any more stress."

Chuck nods. "I understand that. Believe me, I know what it's like to miss somebody."

"Do you, Chuck? Do you really?" Blair asks with a disbelieving snort.

"I do. I live here by myself. This suite is all mine. Where is my father? If he's not in the office, he's somewhere around the world. I haven't seen him in weeks. Where's my mother?" Chuck stops and sighs. "Well, I've already told you that. I'm just saying you aren't the only one with problems. You aren't alone."

Blair shrugs. "I'm sorry, Chuck. I didn't realize you were… so lonely."

Chuck averts his eyes from Blair, instead staring into his half-empty scotch glass. He's never actually told anyone he cared about the fact that Bart is always gone and Chuck isn't sure he wants to go there again. After all, how good of a person could Chuck be if his own father doesn't even acknowledge he's alive? A soft touch on his hand stirs him from his thoughts and Chuck looks to see Blair smiling wistfully. "Hey, Bass. You aren't alone either."

Chuck isn't very skilled in sentimentality so he instead grants her a very rare smile. Blair has an amazing body and an air of unparalleled mystery about her, but she also has a way of penetrating his mind, deep into its core. Every word she says, good or bad, affects Chuck in a way he's never felt and tonight he's glad that Blair's taken the kind route, even if it took her an angry little detour to get there. "You're something else," he says with a muted smirk.

"So are you," Blair replies, setting down her empty glass.

Chuck raises an eyebrow. "My, my, Waldorf. At this rate, I'm going to have to ask you to buy me a new fifth of Tanqueray."

Blair tosses her curls over her shoulders casually as Chuck gets up to pour her another. "And I'm going to have to ask you to buy me a new boyfriend after what you pulled today."

"Don't go there," Chuck warns her playfully. "Though, I have to ask… why, at the restaurant, did you tell me you weren't going to stop seeing me? Why do you even care if he's mad at you for having lunch with me if you were planning on going against his wishes anyways?"

Chuck already knows the answer (because he knows Blair better than he knows himself even if she doesn't realize it). He watches her with interest as Blair pretends not to hear him, wiping off non-existent condensation from the glass.

"Afraid to lie because you know I'll catch you?" Chuck presses.

Blair is visibly nervous as she downs her gin and tonic and licks the remaining alcohol off of her rose petal lips. "Don't, Bass." She moves to stand up and Chuck finds her stance to be a bit wobbly. He walks over to Blair and extends an arm, which she gladly takes in order to balance herself.

"Don't, what?" Chuck inquires with genuine curiosity.

"Don't make me say it," Blair whispers, as she drops Chuck's arm and stumbles in her own pretty little elegant way towards Chuck's liquor cabinet. Once she reaches her destination, Blair gets on her tip-toes and manages to retrieve a bottle of Chuck's scotch. "Is this what you always drink, tough guy? Mr. I'm-so-refined-I-fight-with-my-crush's-boyfriend-on-a-daily-basis?"

Chuck quickly rushes towards her and grabs the scotch out of her hand. "Why, yes, it is. But you'll never know how it tastes because I'm cutting you off."

"Not a chance, Bass," Blair sasses, yanking the bottle right back and proceeding to pour some of the amber liquid into a shot glass.

"Suit yourself, but don't say I didn't warn you." Stepping back with a shrug, Chuck watches as she takes down the shot expertly.

Blair's face scrunches up as if she's just bitten into a lemon. "That is absolutely disgusting! How do you drink this stuff, Chuck?"

"Eight years of practice," Chuck smirks, pouring a shot for himself and then getting a glass of water for Blair.

Chuck ushers Blair back to the couch where they both sit, this time a little closer to each other than before. "So, Waldorf, how did you end up here at my suite anyways?" he asks, trying with superhuman strength not to put his hand on Blair's thigh.

Blair turns to him, crossing her left leg over her right and allowing the fabric of her sapphire dress to creep up her leg to reveal black stockings. Chuck swallows hard. "Oh, S told me where you lived. She told me not to be surprised if a hooker or two walked out as I walk in. Is it true, Bass? Are you really that much of a man-whore?" she replies bluntly.

Chuck's jaw is set rigidly. "I haven't had a reason before not to be." That seems to be an appropriate answer, Chuck figures.

Blair gathers her hair over the right side of her shoulder, leaving the nape of her neck exposed. _She has to be doing this on purpose_. "And you have one now?" she asks innocently, eyes boring into Chuck's.

"If you'll allow me," Chuck responds in a serious tone. He reaches out and softly brushes the exposed flesh of Blair's neck. Blair closes her eyes and underneath his touch, Chuck can feel her body relax. God, does Chuck want to move in for the kiss. His heart pounds rapidly in his chest as his mind moves at a thousand thoughts a second. Would she be immediately repulsed? Would she hate him for crossing the line? Would she –

Chuck has no time to decide because all of a sudden he finds Blair's soft lips pressed against his own, her tongue flicking at his lower lip. He plunges his tongue deep inside of Blair's mouth, exploring and claiming every last inch. She tastes of mint and a little bit of scotch, two of Chuck's favorite flavors in the world. The kiss is just as he's imagined it – explosive and heavenly and perfect. Blair's tugging at his tie now, loosening it, but Chuck's mind isn't thinking far ahead enough to wonder if Blair intends to do anything else.

Chuck slides the straps of Blair's dress off of her shoulders, letting them fall against her arms as his hand cradles the back of her neck. Chuck suddenly feels Blair begin fingering the buttons of his shirt and he's brought back to reality. He pulls out of the kiss and touches his forehead to hers. "Blair," he whispers.

"Chuck," purrs Blair.

"You're drunk," Chuck points out in concern.

Blair eyes him, puzzled. "I'm tipsy," she corrects him.

"I don't care," he responds. "I want you, more than you could ever imagine, but not this way. Not when you have the potential to regret it tomorrow."

"I won't regret this, Chuck," Blair whispers. "I won't regret you."

Chuck sees the truthfulness in her eyes, the innocence radiating off of her that, despite her expert knowledge of making out, suggests that she's never gone beyond this point sexually. "I… Are… Have you…" he doesn't quite know how to articulate that question appropriately.

_Have you ever been fucked_? That would be his ideal choice, but somehow Chuck thinks Blair would find that somewhat… crude.

"Am I a virgin?" Blair completes his thoughts. "Yes." Chuck's mouth waters at the mention of the word. He, Chuck Bass, could possibly be the first man to expose Blair Waldorf to the world of sex. It's a tantalizing thought, and Chuck finds himself harder than ever.

Blair apparently notices this too and bites her lower lip, amused. "Maybe you're right. We should stop here." She moves away from Chuck and lowers the hem on her dress back over her knees.

_Great_. _I've been blue-balled. _

Chuck looks at Blair with longing in eyes. "Stay here, tonight," he urges her.

"I… what about Casey?" she asks tentatively.

Chuck's eyes grow dark. "To hell with Casey, Blair. If you loved him you wouldn't be here right now and you know it. Besides, I'm not asking you to sleep with me. I'm just asking you to stay." He's been alone for so long and God knows it would be nice to actually have another human presence in the suite for longer than a few hours, a presence that Chuck can't seem to get enough of.

Blair closes her eyes. "Okay."

"What?"

"I said okay," Blair repeats herself. "I'll stay with you. But only because I'm too drunk to find a cab home."

"I thought you said you were only tipsy," Chuck teases her.

Blair rolls her eyes. "Shut up, Bass."

"Fine, fine. Whatever helps you sleep at night," Chuck says with a smirk, trying to mask the happiness that's threatening to burst out of him at his seams. They walk to his bedroom and Chuck pulls out two sets of pajamas, handing one to Blair.

"I'm sleeping on the right side, then," Blair states regally. "Our bodies don't touch, and if you snore, I'm smothering you."

Chuck eyes her, intrigued. "Anything you say," he agrees.

"One more thing," Blair adds.

"Hmm?"

"Nobody finds out about tonight. And I mean nobody. Especially not Casey," Blair commands sternly as she goes into the bathroom to change.

Chuck wait until she gets out and chuckles in amusement at the way his green silk pajamas hang loosely on her slender frame. They both get into Chuck's massive king-size bed, Chuck on the left and Blair on the right. Blair wraps herself in the majority of the down comforter and sighs contentedly as her head sinks into the pillow. Chuck can't help but smile widely in the darkness; finally, there's someone in his bed he's not going to want to throw out in the morning.

As he lies down, back turned to Blair, and slides a sheet over his body, Chuck closes his eyes, prepared to have the best slumber he's had in years. Several minutes later, presuming that Chuck is asleep, Blair whispers, "I've never had a kiss with Casey that's been better than the one I had with you. Just so you know."

Chuck's eyes fly open. There's no way he'll be sleeping tonight.

**xoxo**

_So, how'd you like it? I love writing CB. They're so cute! Just so you all are clear, Casey didn't break up with Blair; they just got in a huge fight. Oh, and sorry if I'm not updating that quickly; I've been immersed in NBA playoffs and real life. Anyways, I'm trying to move things along with CB without rushing it unrealistically. Thanks again for all your reviews, everyone! LOVE THEM =)_


	7. Chapter 7

**The Thawing**

_Chuck never knew his heart could beat until he saw Her. Multi-chap about Chuck's first encounter with Blair. AU, CB._

**Disclaimer:** Don't own, don't sue.

**xoxo**

The next morning, the scent of strawberries stirs Chuck from his slumber, and he opens his eyes to find Blair nestled close to him with her back against his chest. He's incredibly hot (and not just in the pants); the silk fabric of his pajamas is damp from being pressed against her all night. Blair's messy curls are dangerously close to Chuck's face and he suspects that the delicious, fruity scent is originating from her strands. Chuck quickly realizes his arm is draped over Blair protectively, and so he moves it gently, though with slight disappointment, as holding Blair Waldorf in his arms feels natural to him. Chuck sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed before getting to his feet.

His movements awaken Blair, and she rolls over to face him. Chuck's breath hitches in his throat and he's frozen in spot, his eyes drinking in the sight before him. Sluts with heavy make-up used to be Chuck's favorite indulgence, but after this morning, there is no way he could possibly imagine going back to that. Blair's face has a natural glow, as if she's been sprinkled with dew, and there's a slight rosiness to her cheeks that Chuck could only attribute to the body heat created when they slept (her bottom _did _fit perfectly against his groin, after all). Blair's brunette locks tumble freely down her shoulders, the ends tickling the cotton sheets.

"Morning," she says shyly.

"Morning, Waldorf," Chuck greets her. "Sleep well?"

Blair shrugs with a small grin. "As well as I could have given the circumstances. Thank god for Labor Day weekend. I don't know what I'd do if Gossip Girl caught me doing the Walk of Shame all the way to school."

Chuck moves to his closet and picks out a shirt and pants. He detects a trace of nervousness in her voice along with the feeling of awkwardness, and he can't help but wonder if Blair regrets staying with him. "You can leave if you'd like. I won't blame you," Chuck says bluntly, trying not to sound like he cares too much. After all, everyone else leaves him, why shouldn't Blair?

Blair sits up in bed, the loose pajama top shifting on her small frame to reveal a peek of milky white shoulder. She sighs remorsefully. "Chuck… It's not that I want to, it's that I have to."

"You're Blair Waldorf. You don't _have_ to do anything," Chuck replies flippantly, tossing his outfit on the bed and unbuttoning the top to his pajamas.

Blair averts her eyes carefully as Chuck throws the monogrammed top to the ground. "You don't understand. Casey's been in my life for over five years now. He's been with me through everything. He even transferred over the Atlantic for me, Chuck. I owe it to him to make this work."

Chuck rolls his eyes as he slips a wife-beater over his shoulders. "But do you love him?"

Blair doesn't reply right away, instead pretending to look for split ends.

"Well?" Chuck presses, putting on a purple dress shirt.

Blair slams her hands down on the bed. "Damn it, Bass! No - I mean yes! I… just leave it alone, okay?"

"Then there's your answer," Chuck states with a satisfied smirk.

"Because you know me so well," Blair snaps, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly.

Chuck wraps his Rolex around his wrist. "Exactly," he replies.

Blair opens her mouth to speak but doesn't. She takes a moment to search for the right words. "Okay. Say you do know me so well. What would you expect me to do if I told you Casey's band is performing in Brooklyn tomorrow night?"

"I'd expect you to dump his sorry ass and tell him that Blair Waldorf doesn't do grime," Chuck answers matter-of-factly.

"Well, you're wrong, Mr. Know-It-All. I'm going, as soon as I talk to Casey and make sure we're okay," Blair remarks triumphantly.

Chuck throws her a disbelieving look. "Is that so? I'm going to give you some advice then, Waldorf. I suggest you quit pretending to be someone you aren't for someone you don't even want to be with."

Blair moves to her feet and starts towards the bathroom to change back into her own clothes. "Pretending is what I'm good at," Blair says all too seriously, her expression stoic.

When she's done getting ready, Blair walks out of the bathroom and Chuck is waiting at the front door, his dark purple jacket in hand. "Let's go."

Blair stares at him with wide eyes. "We can't leave together, Chuck. There's no way. People will talk and Casey will find out and –"

"Relax," Chuck advises her firmly. "People are always going to talk, Waldorf. You'll learn that quicker in the Upper East Side than anywhere else in the world. You said you're good at pretending, right?"

Blair nods.

"Then put on a show."

Chuck and Blair leave in separate vehicles, each going to different destinations, but the only thing Penelope Shafai cares about is the fact that the pair exits the hotel at the same time. She quickly sends the picture to Gossip Girl and shuts her phone with a mischievous grin.

**xoxo  
**

_**Spotted:** C and B leaving C's hotel. Either B's recycling outfits or she's recycling men, because that's the same dress she wore yesterday. Walk of Shame? Enlighten us, B. I'm sure your boyfriend would love to know. _

**xoxo**

The next morning, Chuck takes his limo to the van der Woodsen penthouse. Lily opens the door in a rush, greeting Chuck with a kiss on the cheek and then hurrying out.

"Mom's going to breakfast with some guy," Eric informs Chuck from behind, causing him to turn around, startled.

Chuck furrows a brow. "Who's the guy? Please tell me she's not getting back together with Rufus Humphrey."

Eric shrugs. "I hope not, otherwise Serena and Dan are gonna have some serious issues."

"Not that I'd mind," Chuck says with a smirk. Of course, that's not completely true. Chuck's never really had problems with Dan Humphrey. They're definitely polar opposites in literally every aspect of their lives, but Humphrey always knows when to act like a friend.

Now that he thinks about it, Chuck realizes he's just as good at pretending as Blair is…

"Chuck, hi!" Serena greets him, her tone chipper.

"Hey, sis," Chuck returns. "I hear you're scheming?"

"Right," Serena says pointedly. "So, I've been thinking about tonight, and I know that Blair doesn't really want to go to that show."

"Obviously," Chuck drawls. "Playing groupie isn't very flattering for someone like her."

Serena puts her hands on her hips. "Come on, Chuck," she chastises, "You can't blame her for wanting to fix things with Casey. He's all she knows."

"Yet you have no problem helping me break up their relationship," Chuck shoots back with a smirk.

Serena shrugs, smiling. "Of course I don't. You two belong together. She just doesn't see it yet, which is why I'm trying to be the Sherlock to your Watson. You know, 'show her the light' and all that good stuff."

"I think you meant the Watson to _my _Sherlock, S," Chuck replies, amused. "I can see why Brown didn't work out for you."

"Shut up, Chuck. I said what I meant," Serena retorts, hitting him on the arm playfully. "After all, who was the one that orchestrated you two's encounter at Bergdorf's?"

Chuck holds his hands up as if to signal defeat. "Fine, fine. I'll let you have this one, but the next Jessica Simpson you pull, I'm never letting you forget."

Serena grabs Chuck's hand and shakes it. "Deal."

"So, what do you have for me?" Chuck inquires, taking a seat on the couch.

Serena sits on the sofa across from him. "Okay, well I told Blair we were all going to Casey's show. Including you. I -"

"What? I don't want to go," Chuck interjects. "I was thinking more along the lines of massive electrical blackout."

Serena shakes her head. "No way, Chuck. No diabolical plots. This isn't an episode of _24_. You're going and that's that. I told B if she wanted Dan, Nate, and me to go that she'd have to agree to you coming, and she did."

Chuck sighs. "Well, tonight's not going to be nearly as climatic as I thought it would be."

"Oh, I doubt that," Serena says. "Thanks to Gossip Girl there's probably going to be more drama than even you would like. Just don't act like an idiot."

**xoxo**

Chuck's limo pulls up to the van der Woodsen penthouse and picks up Serena and Chuck. After the two get in, the limo picks up Nate before finally taking off towards Blair's place.

"I thought Dan was coming," Nate remarks, gazing at Serena with admiring eyes.

"He's meeting us at The Underground," Serena answers nonchalantly.

Chuck snorts. Serena is far too into herself to see that Nate pines for her like Perez Hilton for Zac Efron. It's kind of amusing; Nate follows Serena like a lovesick puppy while Serena gushes over Dan and his intellectualisms that Chuck is ninety-five percent sure she doesn't understand. He tries to imagine Serena with Nate and almost laughs at the thought. They'd be the perfect couple sans brains. Maybe Chuck would help his friend out after all of these issues with Blair are over.

Right now, however, Chuck's got more pressing issues at hand, like how he's going to stop his jaw from falling to the ground because Blair is getting into the limo now and the way she looks... well, she never ceases to amaze him. Her gray Stella McCartney pants are slouchy and loose but her purple Lanvin tank definitely clings to her upper curves in a way that makes Chuck's mouth water.

"Hey, B," Serena says to her friend as Blair slides to the far back end of the limo.

Blair settles into her seat and smiles warmly at Serena. "Hi, S. I'm so glad you're coming with tonight. I wish the show wasn't in Brooklyn. Just the idea of that place makes my skin beg for a shower."

Serena rolls her eyes. "It's not _that_ bad, Blair."

"Yes it is," Chuck jumps in. "You're going to have to be quarantined afterwards."

Blair parts her lips in shock, as if she actually believes him. "You're probably right, Bass. I should have worn my hazmat suit," she says quite seriously.

Chuck smirks, entertained. "I'll delouse you."

"You're disgusting!" Serena exclaims as Nate scolds, "Aw, come on, man."

Chuck swears he can see Blair bite back a grin and his heart flutters, thrilled.

**xoxo**

The limo pulls up at The Underground around eight o'clock. The venue is a dingy, hole-in-the-wall type place that Chuck would assume is a crack house if he didn't know any better. Dan is standing outside, leaning against the brick wall in wait, and Serena runs up to him and throws her arms around his neck, kissing him as Nate and Chuck exchange annoyed glances.

Blair steps onto the curb hesitantly and crinkles her nose at the brick building. "The things I do for love," she says absentmindedly.

Chuck looks at her skeptically and Blair clears her throat as if to start a new subject (which is exactly what she does). "So, I guess there's only one band before Casey's goes on. This can't be too bad, right?" Chuck smirks as a tall, lanky kid with stringy black hair walks past Blair and checks her out before heading into the venue.

"Spoke too soon, huh Waldorf?" Chuck asks.

Blair compares the group she is with to the eclectic group of Brooklynites around her. Surely Valentino and Prada do not mix with Converse and Manic Panic. "I didn't realize ninety percent of the crowd would consist of goths that look like they came out of _Night of the Living Dead_," Blair retorts sharply. "You kind of look like you could fit in, though, Humphrey."

Dan rolls his eyes. "I'm flattered, Blair, really. Thanks."

The group heads into The Underground and it's truly as if they're in a different world. The inside is full of people, none of whom seem like they would recognize a designer label even if it were plastered across their shirts. Chuck can count at least six flannel shirts, and in this moment, he swears to never take his Italian suits for granted again.

The first band is called King James ("What a sweet fuckin' name! It's totally 'cause of LeBron!" Nate gushes), a rock-rap group that Chuck would gladly pay off to assure the world never hears their music again. During their set, Serena rests against Dan, who has his arms wrapped around her perfectly flat stomach as he nods to the music. Nate is ecstatically trying to catch on to the lyrics and Chuck has a feeling he's going to be hearing a lot more of King James in the future, namely from the CD that Nate already decides he's buying.

Chuck turns to look at Blair, and to his surprise, she's already staring at him. "Can I help you?" Chuck asks with a smirk.

"Yes. Fast-forward through this mess," Blair shouts over the music, shifting on her feet impatiently.

After half an hour, the first band is over and there's a short intermission before Smack comes on. Chuck and Nate head over to the bar and the former bribes the server into selling him drinks without question of age. The two return to the group with a scotch for Chuck, a beer for Nate, Perriers for Serena and Blair, and an Irish coffee for Dan.

"If it weren't for the music, the interior design, and the people who look like they dressed in the dark, I might not despise this place," Blair comments inattentively.

Serena laughs. "It's not bad. I'm kind of having a good time." She smiles at Dan, squeezing his hand.

Chuck watches Nate go towards the merchandise area and smirks. "I can't imagine Nathaniel would complain."

After ten minutes, the lights dim and Casey is the first of the band to walk onto the stage. Chuck sneaks a furtive glance at Blair, and to his dismay, she's watching Casey in adoration as the he steps to the side of the lead vocalist and puts his guitar strap around his shoulders. Chuck knows that Blair isn't lying when she says she cares about Casey; how could she not when they've dated for so many years? He just wishes it were easier to get her to own up to what she's_ really_ feeling.

Smack begins playing and Casey's fingers move wildly along the guitar strings. Images flash in Chuck's head involving those digits and a certain brunette and his fists instinctively clench. Something's gotta give, and soon, because the last thing Chuck wants is for Blair to think that doing something like _that_ with Casey is going to fix whatever deep-rooted issue the couple has.

Before Chuck knows it, the set is over and the lights turn on once more. Blair ushers the group over towards her. "Casey wants us to come backstage. We don't have to stay long. I just have to make an appearance. Sound good?"

"Sure, B, whatever you want," Serena says jovially.

Backstage, musicians from both bands are lounging backstage, with girls from the crowd evidently handpicked to be "friends" with the guys. Blair rolls her eyes judgmentally at a blonde whose skirt is so short you can see the lines under her ass from tanning. There's a half-smoked joint in an ashtray on one of the coffee tables and Chuck smirks as Nate eyes it hungrily. Chuck didn't think that going backstage at a Brooklyn show actually entailed partying and booze and illegal drugs, but he's not complaining.

The drummer from King James offers Nate a hit of the joint and the blonde obliges happily before passing it to Chuck. "That's disgusting," Blair snaps as Chuck starts raising the joint to his lips.

"Don't knock 'til you've tried it, Waldorf," Chuck replies lazily. He doesn't take the hit, though; instead, he passes it back to the drummer.

"Hey babe," Casey comes up to Blair from behind and kisses her neck. Wiping his sweaty brow, Casey's eyes meet Chuck's and they are crazed with adrenaline, excitement, who knows. All Chuck knows is that he hates the rocker. "I'm so glad you came to support me. It means the world to me."

Blair looks at Chuck apologetically before turning to face Casey. "You're welcome. You did an amazing job." She rests her hands on his chests and stands on her tiptoes to kiss him on the lips. "Your heart's pounding out of your chest. Happy to see me?"

"Always," Casey replies, brushing her arm softly.

Chuck doesn't care to see this interaction and so he turns his back to the couple, choosing instead to engage in conversation with the slutty blonde with the ass tan lines.

_Maybe this will show her_, he thinks mischievously.

"Chuck Bass," he introduces himself to the girl. "I'm not with the band, but I'm heir to a billion dollar fortune."

The blonde's interest is suddenly piqued. "Oh really?" She moves closer to Chuck and he can smell the booze on her breath. "I'm Kelly. I don't usually go for dudes that don't play music but for you, I'll make an exception."

Blair's voice suddenly cuts in the conversation. "Excuse me, _Kelly_, but wherever did you get that dress? I could have sworn I seen it on a second-hand rack somewhere."

Chuck tries to hide a smirk as Kelly snorts in disbelief.

"Can I talk to you for a sec, Blairbear?" Casey cuts in quickly.

Blair visibly winces at the use of her father's nickname for her. "Of course, love," she acquiesces before allowing her boyfriend to take her by the hand and lead her into a second room.

"God, what the hell is her problem?" Kelly asks.

"You, obviously," Chuck remarks carelessly. "You know, on second thought, I'd rather pay for quality escorts, not cheap whores. Good luck on the musician hunt, Kelly."

Chuck leaves Kelly open-mouthed as he turns on his heels and makes his way over to Serena and Dan. Serena's oohing and aahing over one guitarist's rendition of "Nothin' On You" and Dan tosses Chuck an exasperated glance.

Smirking, Chuck comments, "Give a kitten some yarn and she'll play, Humphrey." Out of the corner of his eye, Chuck sees Nate gesturing towards Chuck. _ Come here,_ Nate mouths soundlessly. "Excuse me," Chuck says as he gets up from the couch.

When he reaches Nate, Chuck opens his mouth to speak but Nate puts his index finger to his lips. Two voices – Casey's and Blair's – can be heard arguing back and forth behind the closed door.

"He's Serena's brother, Casey! I'm not going to tell her who she can and cannot bring. That's insane!"

"I don't give a damn, Blair! I'm fucking sick of this! I came all the way over here for_ you_ and yet you've gone mad for some pompous jackass?!"

"I don't want, Chuck! I want you! How many times have I told you that?"

"Too many times and yet you've meant it not once! I've seen the fucking Gossip Girl blast, Blair! What in the hell were you doing at his hotel?!"

"I went over there to yell at him for being a dick to you, Casey!"

"Oh, so you stayed the night just to tell him that? Bullshit, Blair! You have no business being around him! I do everything for you, Blair! Everything! Do you think Chuck Bass would want to deal with a chick that sticks her finger down her throat? Fuck no! But I do because I love you!"

"You're acting insane, Casey! I told you that you have nothing to worry about!"

"I don't fucking believe you! Everything you're telling me contradicts what you've been doing! You don't think I notice the way you look at him? You don't think I didn't notice how jealous you got when that bitch was talking to him? Enough of the lies already!"

"FINE! I kissed him last night, okay! I kissed him and that's all and I told him it could never happen again! I – Jesus, Casey, what the hell is wrong with you? Your eyes, they're - "

That's when they hear it. The undeniable crack of skin against skin. Chuck wastes no time in opening the door and he stops in his tracks when he sees Blair, her trembling hand cupped to her left cheek. "Chuck, it's – "

"No. Do not tell me it's nothing," Chuck demands, his eyes gleaming coldly as they dart towards a shocked Casey.

"I didn't mean it, Blair. I swear, I – " Casey doesn't finish his sentence because before Chuck can make it to him, Nate does, punching the Casey square in the face.

Casey falls down in a heap. Wanting his turn, Chuck kicks Casey in the stomach with his Italian loafers. Certainly not the most effective weapon but he'll take it. Crouching down, Chuck stares the fallen musician straight in the eye and asks, "What the hell are you on?"

At this point, a crowd begins forming at the door and Serena rushes in with her hand to her mouth. "Oh my god, Blair!" She runs to Blair's side and pulls her into a hug, almost crying herself when she feels her friend heave with sobs.

Casey gets to his feet and Chuck leaps back cautiously. Wiping the sweat from his forehead with shaking hands, Casey says, ashamed, "It was an accident. An accident." He backs away from Chuck and Nate and pushes hurriedly through the crowd without answering Chuck's question.

Suddenly, Kelly's husky voice rings out. "He used cocaine. With me. It wasn't much but he was a newbie."

Blair pulls out of Serena's embrace and her mouth falls open in utter shock. Cocaine? "I… Serena, I think I'm going to be sick."

Chuck raises a brow, concerned, as Serena brushes Blair's hair back. "Shh… B, it'll be okay. Come on, let's get out of here." Serena puts her arm around Blair's shoulder and Chuck leads them out of the door, followed by the Nate and Dan.

Chuck's limo pulls up in the back of the venue. Dan opts to walk back to his place leaving Serena to get in, followed by Blair, and then Nate. Chuck looks around to make sure Casey is nowhere near the vehicle and then gets in, shutting the door behind him. Blair is sitting miserably in the corner of the seat. She jerks her knee away when Serena tries to put a comforting hand on it.

It's a silent ride; no one really knows quite what to say, although Chuck certainly has a few choice words for Casey. He seriously contemplates killing him for a second, but then where would Blair be?

Nate and Serena don't really want to leave Blair but the look in the latter's eyes tells them to leave her alone. "I'll come over tomorrow, B," Serena says sadly before getting out of the limo, Nate following (_as usual_, Chuck notes).

Yet again, Chuck and Blair are alone in his limo together. Chuck doesn't know what to say, but lucky for him, he doesn't have to because Blair whispers, almost inaudibly, "You're right. I don't love him. I cared about who he used to be, but he's not the same person anymore."

Chuck tries with everything he's got not to punch a window out, because when Blair turns to face him, he sees red. Her cheek looks sore and is already starting to bruise. His eyes drop to her right arm, where he can see additional bruises where it looks like Casey had been grabbing her.

Self-consciously, Blair raises her hand to her cheek. "Do I look like awful?"

Chuck shakes his head. "No, Blair. You look beautiful." He gestures to her injured cheek. "May I?"

Blair hesitates before nodding slowly, and Chuck gently lowers her hand. He inspects the handprint that mars her flesh with hard eyes. "Has he ever…" Chuck trails off.

"No! Of course not!" Blair denies, shaking her head vehemently. "He's never done anything like this before. Ever. He's used ecstasy before, back in Paris, but never cocaine. I… I don't even know what to do." She drops her head sadly, wringing her hands together.

Chuck's face grows dark. "You're not thinking of seeing him again." He says this as more of a statement than a question.

Blair closes her eyes with a sigh. "No, Chuck. But… no one understands me, okay? Not Serena, not my mother, not anyone. Casey was the only thing I had keeping me connected to my old life."

Chuck inches closer to Blair. "Then start a new life."

Blair looks at him with teary eyes. "I don't know how."

"We'll figure it out," Chuck says quietly, pulling her into him and not quite caring that her tears were ruining his Armani shirt.

Blair's hands fist his shirt as if she's holding on for dear life. "Later?" she asks, defeated.

Chuck kisses the top of her head tenderly. "Later."

**xoxo**

_Hope you guys liked it! Sorry about the slow updates. It's crunch time for finals unfortunately (and leave it to me to find Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time for PC just in time lol). So... I didn't really expect this chapter to turn out this way, but I'm really pleased with it and it's safe to say Casey's not going to be much of an issue anymore! One question... do you think the story is going too slow or do you like the pace? I don't want to rush the relationship but I don't want to take too long, either. Thoughts? & once again... thank you so much for the reviews!  
_


	8. Chapter 8

**The Thawing**

_Chuck never knew his heart could beat until he saw Her. Multi-chap about Chuck's first encounter with Blair. AU, CB._

**Disclaimer: **Don't own, don't sue.

**xoxo**

Chuck's limo pulls up to Blair's building and sits idling as Chuck waits for Blair to compose herself.

"I'm okay. Seriously. You can just drop me off now," Blair says unconvincingly as she wipes eyeliner from beneath her eyes.

Chuck watches her with skepticism. "I don't think that's a good idea," he returns, his mind immediately flashing to Casey's previous words regarding Blair's penchant for sticking fingers where they don't belong. "Look, Blair, you've been through a lot tonight. The least I could do is stay for you like you did for me. Is that alright?"

Blair bites her lip with clear confliction. "My mother's in Milan," she informs him.

"Then there should be no opposition," Chuck replies with a smirk, "and perhaps I'll make it out of your penthouse with my dignity intact this time."

Blair smiles weakly. "You really don't have to stay. I can take care of myself."

Chuck knows that Blair is lying by the way she is clutching her stomach. He previously suspected that she had eating problems because every time a meal ends, her food is swirled around the plate, but there's no less of it. After hearing Casey's accusations toward her, however, Chuck knows for sure that there is more than meets the eye. Now, there is far too much at stake to leave Blair alone, and so Chuck refuses to back down. "I'm not leaving," he tells her firmly.

Blair's eyes flicker between Chuck's hand, which is now placed atop her thigh, and his eyes, which bore into her with the knowledge of a million prophets. "Is there any changing your mind, Bass?" Blair asks, her voice not quite as earnest as she hopes it to be.

Chuck rubs his thumb over Blair's thigh softly. "Not in a thousand years," he replies with finality.

With that said, Chuck opens the limo door and lets Blair out, following her immediately after. He's sure there will be a Gossip Girl post about this evening, but there is no way in hell Chuck is going to let that stupid website affect Blair. He's more worried about the way she's going to handle the aftershocks of tonight's events.

The pair takes the elevator upstairs and heads into Blair's penthouse. "Be quiet," Blair warns Chuck. "Dorota's passed out in the other room and she's a terribly light sleeper."

Chuck makes to follow Blair upstairs and curses under his breath as his knee collides with the banister. Blair turns around and laughs quietly, her giggles a spark of light in the overbearing darkness of the penthouse. Chuck can understand why his father leaves him alone, because he's never really met Bart's expectations, what with being a womanizing, pot-smoking, scotch abuser… but Blair? How could Eleanor possibly leave her daughter alone in such a state? It's clear as crystal that Blair isn't over Harold's death, and Chuck doesn't expect her to be over it, but with all that happened tonight… well, it's more than any person should have to deal with alone.

Blair stops and cautiously presses down on the door handle before letting herself and Chuck in to the room. She turns the lamp on, and the warm, soft, glow of the light floods the space, revealing what Chuck can only describe as heaven (aka Blair Waldorf's bedroom). The blue walls are calming, tranquil, yet a far different color from what Chuck imagines Blair's walls would look like. Pink, maybe? The girl seems to have such optimism for a happy ending that it's a wonder there isn't a Cinderella mural painted on the walls.

Her bed – Blair's wonderfully inviting queen-size bed – is adorned with cream-colored bedding and pillows trimmed in a gold hue. It certainly is fit for a queen, Chuck notes, and a tingling feeling stirs in him at the thought of taking Blair on this very mattress. Chuck's eyes move to her vanity and smirks at the orderly fashion in which Blair's make-up is lined up. It's controlled, organized, just like Blair. Chuck realizes her virtue is also her vice when he spots the bathroom door, sealing within it the secret about which she probably doesn't know Chuck is aware.

"Want to watch a movie?" Blair asks him, stirring Chuck out his thoughts.

_I'll ask her later, _Chuck decides, not wanting to ruin the moment.

"What do you have in mind?" he asks, moving to the bed.

Blair walks towards her closet. "We can decide after I change," she says resolutely, before adding, "and don't look at me, Bass, if you'd like to keep your vision."

Chuck smirks mischievously as he watches Blair go into her walk-in closet and shut the door. He takes his shoes off, and then his jacket, setting it at the foot of the bed, before leaning back in the bed against the headboard. Blair steps out of the closet in a silky purple nightgown so curve-hugging that Chuck has the urge to fuck her against the wall right here and now.

_Then again, it seems every outfit has that effect,_ Chuck notes. "You look stunning," he breathes as Blair walks towards one of her shelves. He can't help but wince, though, at the bruises marring her beautiful skin. It's at this point that Chuck decides to take matters into his own hands regarding Casey.

"Thanks, Bass," Blair says with a smile. "So, I've got all of Audrey's films, and – "

"Audrey?" Chuck asks curiously.

"Hepburn, of course," Blair remarks as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "_Breakfast at Tiffany's _is my all-time favorite. Holly is such a wonderful mess."

Chuck watches her with interest. Blair certainly does seem to identify with the actresses of the Golden Era. Marilyn, Judy, Natalie… they were all perfect on the outside, but their vices ultimately killed them. Chuck shudders at the thought. Perhaps Blair identifies with them a little_ too_ closely.

"How about something a little more modern?" Chuck suggests, suddenly needing to erase his thoughts from his mind.

Blair throws Chuck an amused look. "_Titanic_, then?" she asks with a grin.

"As long as it was made after nineteen ninety, I'm fine," Chuck replies with a smirk.

Blair turns the TV on and pops the disc into the DVD player. She brings the remote with her to the bed and crawls underneath the blankets next to Chuck. Before Blair can press play, a knock sounds at the door and Dorota's plump figure appears, donned in green flannel pajamas.

"Miss Blair, I – oh!" Dorota exclaims, her eyes widening at the sight of Chuck in Blair's bed, followed by Blair's injuries. "Oh my, Miss Blair, what happened to cheek!?"

Blair touches her face with embarrassment. "I don't want to talk about it, Dorota."

Dorota smiles sympathetically at the girl she considers a younger sister. "It's okay. You are beautiful always. We talk tomorrow," The maid says before turning her attention to Chuck. "Hi, Mr. Chuck. I… surprised to see you here. I bring popcorn?"

"No, thank you" Blair says.

"Yes, please," Chuck answers at the same time.

Dorota raises an eyebrow at their respective reactions. Chuck seems to match her gaze knowingly, and so the maid replies, "Mr. Chuck hungry. I be right back."

Dorota returns with water and a huge silver bowl filled with delicious-smelling popcorn. She hands the bowl to Chuck, who accepts it graciously, and then Dorota wishes Blair and Chuck goodnight before retreating to her bedroom.

Blair starts the movie and scoots closer to Chuck, much to his surprise. Chuck hesitantly puts an arm around her shoulders, and upon feeling her sink into his arm, feels relieved that Blair isn't pushing him away. Chuck eats the popcorn willfully, and when Blair reaches her small hand into the bowl for the first time, he furtively smiles. She doesn't eat much, but it's enough.

Halfway through the movie, Chuck snorts. "What's so funny about verbal abuse?" Blair snaps. The part right after Jack is framed is her least favorite part of the entire film.

"Nothing. I just feel bad for the guy," Chuck shrugs.

"I know! Poor Jack didn't even do anything," Blair replies with a sniffle.

"I meant I feel bad for _Cal_. All the guy wants to do is get married to the chick and she cheats on him with a poor guy. Talk about emasculation," Chuck smirks.

Blair rolls her eyes. "You just like him because he's rich."

"True," he admits.

Blair laughs, flinging a pillow at Chuck. "You're such a jerk!"

**xoxo**

The end of the movie brings Blair to tears and Chuck rolls his eyes at the character dialogue. "This is so cheesy, Waldorf. How could you possibly like this?"

"It's beautiful, you insensitive Basstard," Blair remarks, a Kleenex clenched in her right hand, "Jack gives his life for Rose because he loves her so much. It's tragic, but it's beautiful."

"All I know is that I would never give some girl I've known for three days my spot on that floating door," Chuck shrugs.

Blair looks at him with a curious expression. "Oh, really? And what about me?"

"For you and only you would I do that," Chuck replies without thinking.

His heart thuds in his chest. Oops. Talk about wearing your heart on your sleeve.

Blair seems content with this answer and leans further into him. Within ten minutes, she is asleep, and Chuck suddenly feels like he is invading her space. He slowly moves Blair off of him and gets to his feet. Should he sleep on the couch? The guest room? Chuck stands up and is about to walk towards the door when Blair's quiet, tired voice breaks the silence. "Where are you going?" she asks.

Chuck swallows hard. "I… wasn't sure if you wanted me in your bed. I thought it'd be more appropriate that I sleep downstairs."

Blair furrows her brow. "Why would you do that?"

"You never actually said I could sleep in –"

"Bass, get back in, alright? I… I don't want to be by myself," Blair confesses hesitantly. She sounds just like Chuck did when he asked her to stay the other night. Chuck pauses before unbuttoning his dress shirt and walking back towards the bed. He lifts the comforter and prepares to get in when Blair asks, "Who sleeps in slacks?"

Chuck is taken by surprise. "What do you propose I sleep in, then, Waldorf?"

"I was thinking something called boxers, but if you're the type that goes commando, I'd rather you keep your pants on," she replies flippantly.

Smirking, Chuck slides his pants down and steps out of them. "I see what you're getting at, Blair, and if you think you're going to take advantage of me, then I just might let you."

Blair rolls her eyes, but smiles at the same time. Watching with interest as Chuck gets into bed next to her, Blair answers, "You're far too willing to give it up, Chuck Bass."

"And you're far too difficult," Chuck returns, fluffing a pillow behind his head.

"That's a bad thing?" Blair asks, turning on her side to face him and propping her head on her hand.

Chuck looks at her intently, memorizing the contours of her face – the bow of her lips, the small upturn of her nose, the little lines beneath her dark eyes. "When it comes to you, no," he returns honestly.

Blair smiles meekly, not saying a word.

Chuck puts his hand beneath her chin and thumbs it gently. There's no going back now…

Blair slides her body closer to his, less than accidentally. "Are you okay, Chuck?" she asks.

Chuck frowns. "About as okay as you are," he replies bluntly.

"You know, I thought I believed in happily ever after," Blair starts, "but after tonight, I don't believe in anything."

"You don't have to believe in much, Waldorf," Chuck reassures her, caressing Blair's hand softly, "but you should believe in me." He moves his hand north to cup Blair's face and he feels her lean into his touch almost immediately.

Blair smiles with wist. "You don't have any regrets?" she asks, her tone anxious.

"I have more regrets than I can count," Chuck admits, "but I've never realized them as regrets before I met you, Blair. I know that you don't want to hear this, but there are more promising things waiting for you than what Casey's laid out. You have a future of your own, Waldorf. Embrace it."

Blair opens her mouth to speak but falls silent. Chuck observes her quietly, watching her chest heave up and down with shallow, nervous breaths. He feels as if she's about to break, but, as Chuck wonders, how do break something that's already been broken?

"Tonight was a nightmare up until now," Blair says suddenly, "so, promise me that we'll never speak of it again."

Chuck sighs. "Blair, you can't pretend like this never happened. Things just don't get erased like that."

Blair's eyes begin to water. She turns away, trying to hide her face as tears fall silently down her face. Chuck can tell by the heaving of her shoulders that Blair is upset and he uses his fingers to turn her chin towards him. "Please. Accept what happened and move on. With _me_. We can get through this together."

Blair looks at him through sad, clouded eyes. Her bottom lip wavers as she tries to find the right words to say to Chuck. "Show me how, then, Bass. I've never felt more lost in my life."

Chuck rubs her cheek up and down with his thumb. "God, you're beautiful," he tells her earnestly, relishing in the glow Blair's face emits as she accepts the compliment.

Blair says nothing, but her eyes say everything. "I'm not as beautiful as you think," she confesses darkly.

With a soft clearing of his throat, Chuck tucks a tendril of hair behind her left ear. "And why would that be?" he asks lowly, though he certainly has an idea.

Blair's eyes drop to her comforter and she scratches the soft Egyptian cotton with her manicured nails. "Forget it," she whispers.

Chuck doesn't press her; he knows exactly what Blair is talking about. "Listen, Waldorf, if you haven't scared me off yet, then there's little chance that you will tomorrow. Or the next day. Or even the next month. Just trust me, will you?"

Biting her lip, Blair searches into Chuck's eyes for validation. She glides her soft hand down his arm and curls her fingers around his lower bicep. "I trust you, Chuck, but what about me? What about this disgusting, ruined face? Do you trust _me_?"

Chuck brushes his lips against Blair's lightly before drawing back with a soft hiss. "There is nothing more that I'd like than to stay here in your room, just like this, Waldorf. Believe me when I say that I trust you with all of my life." There is a quiet moment between the two of them, where even the sound of the Earth creaking on its axis is audible. Blair's heavy breaths match Chuck's, and he cups her face in his hand, gently. "Stop pushing me away, Blair."

Blair closes her eyes slowly before raising her hand to cover the one that Chuck's placed on her cheek. She moves closer to him, her bosom rising and falling in unison with Chuck's own breath. Her lips, full and plump, flutter against his and Chucks' mouth reacts instantly, his lips searching for Blair's and meeting them with enthusiasm. Chuck's tongue darts in and out of Blair's mouth, tasting her, savoring her, before Blair pulls back with a soft smirk. "You're devious," she whispers playfully.

Chuck smiles in return, allowing her innocent hands to remove his wifebeater and graze his naked chest. He's never before so thoroughly enjoyed the sensation of bare nails on unclothed skin, but Blair makes it seem as if it's the orgasm everybody's been missing. Chuck grabs Blair's right hand in his own and traces the lines on her palm softly before planting a tender kiss in the center of it. "And you're sinful," he growls under his breath, tasting the sweat of Blair's skin.

She eyes him with mischievous curiosity. Dragging her French-tipped nails down his chest, Blair crashes her lips against Chuck's neck and sucks purposefully. Chuck feels his nether regions stir and he's aware of the fact that his wildest dreams might in fact be coming true.

Chuck grabs Blair's upper arms gently, preventing her from moving southward, and he thumbs the straps of her nightgown past her shoulders. He rolls Blair onto her back and plunges his tongue deep inside of her mouth in ravishment. Blair arches her back in response and Chuck reacts eagerly, his hand running up Blair's utterly smooth thigh to lift the nightgown up to her waist. Her breath hitches as she realizes that the only thing preventing her entire lower body from being exposed to Chuck is her black lack thong.

"Is it…" Chuck trails off, gesturing mutely towards her panties.

Blair bites her lip earnestly, nodding as she guides Chuck's rough hands towards her thong, and allows him to lower them expertly. Chuck's chest tightens as he thumbs her clitoris gently. Blair mewls in response, and at this point, Chuck is damned sure that her indulgent moans will kill him before scotch ever does.

He feels the moistness emanating from her sex, and Chuck dips his head low, his tongue exploring Blair's folds as if was the first feast he's ever experienced. Blair fists Chuck's hair as he pleasures her, raising her hips reflexively as Chuck gives her sensations that Casey has never been able to do. When Chuck feels that Blair is ready to come, he lifts his head mischievously and brings his lips within centimeters of hers. "Kiss me," Chuck urges her, his lips glistening with Blair's wetness.

Blair surveys him, initially frightened at the task. Chuck's eyes bore desperately into hers, and Blair licks her lips inadvertently before leaning into him with fervency, their lips forced to each other as if magnetically attracted. At her acquiescence, Chuck plunges two fingers into Blair roughly, growing harder than ever as she bucks at his encroachment on her pussy.

He uses his right hand to palm Blair's face in his hands and she gazes at him with urgency, her cheeks growing pink with the infringement of unexpected pleasure. "Chuck," she pants, a mix of pain and pleasure, as Chuck guides a hand up her nightgown and rolls her nipple between his index finger and thumb.

"Oh my god, Chuck," she repeats, her legs quivering beneath his touch. Chuck's bulge is as evident as ever and he looks at Blair for approval before the tiny brunette takes matters into her own hands and tugs at his boxers to lower them. Chuck takes a moment to pull his boxers off completely, and kneels before Blair in worship, naked as the day he was born. Blair observes him with parted lips, her nightgown raised over her bellybutton.

"Blair, if you don't want –" Chuck starts, before Blair grabs his arm and pulls him down towards her. Chuck takes this as a signal to move forward, and he pushes her dress higher and higher before finally pulling it over Blair's head.

He rests on top of her momentarily, tangling his hands in Blair's hair. "Really, if you aren't ready, I -"

"Do my bruises offend you, Chuck?" Blair asks quietly.

Chuck lowers his lips to Blair's and kisses her softly. "Nothing about you offends me," he whispers.

"Then I'm ready," she informs him, permitting Chuck's hands to knead Blair's breasts with tender pulsations.

If yesterday, someone had told Chuck Bass he'd be sleeping with the most beautiful girl in the world, he'd never have believed it… But now... now that the only person he's ever cared about refuses to back away from him… Well, nothing is impossible.

**xoxo**

_Hey all! Hope you guys liked this chappie! It's a little more risque than I originally intended it to be but by this point I'm more so trusting what my fingers feel like typing than anything else. I'm glad it turned out the way it did; poor Blair deserves a little happiness, right? It was definitely harder after the UK promo (btw OMG please please please let that promo be jumbled up), so I had to go back to watching old-school CB. Blah. Anyways, I have four finals and then I'm going to Vegas, so I'll try as hard as I can to get something out before the end of the week but it might not happen, sadly. As always, thank you sexy bitches for reviewing - I love you all!_


	9. Chapter 9

**The Thawing**My Stories

_Chuck never knew his heart could beat until he saw Her. Multi-chap about Chuck's first encounter with Blair. AU, CB._

**Disclaimer:** Don't own, don't sue.

**xoxo**

A kiss on his lips the next morning brings Chuck back to the conscious world. He opens his eyes to see Blair poised over him, the corners of her lips tugged upwards in the most genuine smile he's seen her wear yet. Chuck realizes that the two of them are still naked, and it takes all of his sheer strength to keep from lowering his gaze to her bare chest. Sheer strength isn't enough, though, and Blair clears her throat suddenly, snapping Chuck out of his current business of ogling. Chuck looks up again to see an amused smirk on her lips.

"See something you like, Bass?" Blair asks cheerfully, brushing the matted hair from his forehead.

Chuck strokes her right arm gently, taking notice of the way Blair doesn't flinch when he touches her bruises. "Oh, yes. Two things, actually," he replies gruffly.

Blair lowers her head, resting it on Chuck's chest and Chuck suddenly becomes self-conscious of the fact that his heart is racing a hundred miles a minute. "Thank you for last night," she mumbles, almost inaudibly.

Chuck fingers the silky curls that splay across his chest. "It was my pleasure, _believe _me," he returns.

Blair reaches for Chuck's hand and kisses the tip of his finger. "Do you want to know something?" she asks.

"Hmm?" returns Chuck casually, still playing with her hair. He loves the way they fit together, the way everything falls into place so easily.

"You saved me yesterday," Blair admits, choosing each word carefully and purposefully, though her deliverance is rather vague.

Chuck raises a brow, somewhat confused. "Did you honestly think that I would let Casey hurt you any further? Hell, Blair, if I knew what he was going to do to you, I'd of ignored Serena and gone through with my massive blackout plan."

"What?" Blair asks, confused.

Chuck coughs. _Oops. _"Nothing. You were saying?"

Sighing, Blair shakes her head, the movement of her dark strands scratching against Chuck's chest. "I don't even know. I mean, you saved me from… God, nevermind. I'm stupid for even bringing it up."

At this point, Chuck becomes concerned. "What are you talking about? If you're referencing my saving you from picking the wrong movie, I assure you _Titanic_ wasn't my number one choice. I much prefer _Goodfellas_."

A smile flickers across Blair's face. "Don't act like you didn't like it, Bass. I'm pretty sure I heard a sniffle or two coming from your direction."

"I have _allergies_," Chuck counters with a smirk before falling serious again, "but come on, Blair. Quit trying to change the subject."

Blair closes her eyes and becomes silent, Chuck's rapid pulse beating tirelessly against her ear. Chuck suddenly realizes where the conversation might be going and has a lurking suspicion as to why Blair isn't elaborating. Instead of making her do the uncomfortable task of admitting her issue herself, Chuck decides to bring it up and hurry the process. "Listen, since we're on the topic of uncomfortable admissions, there's something that I need to talk about with you," he tells her in a low, serious voice.

Sitting up, Blair wraps a sheet around her (much to Chuck's dismay) and turns to look at him through confused eyes. "What is it, Chuck?" she asks, worried.

Chuck clears his throat, his mind searching for the right words to say. "I heard Casey yelling at you last night, Blair. He said some things. Things that involve you doing something you shouldn't, and I'm not just talking about seeing me."

Chuck isn't a religious man, but he prays that Blair knows what he's talking about so that he doesn't have to voice the words himself. Blair raises a hand to her mouth, surprised. "I'm not crazy, Chuck, I swear to you that whatever Casey said –"

"I know you aren't crazy. You're far from it, unless we're talking about the time you threatened to smother me in my sleep," Chuck says with a weak smirk. "But what you are, Blair, is sick, and I can't sit by idly while you harm yourself. Passiveness is not in the Bass genes."

Blair looks down, fingering the fabric of her Egyptian cotton sheet. "I don't know what you want me to say," she says.

Chuck sighs heavily. "Tell me that you'll get help," he urges her. "You're too good to be doing... _that_."

Lifting her head once again, Blair fists the sheet hard in her hands. "First, you tell me this. Is Casey right? Is a girl like me really too much work for playboy Chuck Bass?"

"A girl like you? A girl like _you_?" Chuck's voice rises. "_You_ are what's changing me into someone that maybe my father could be proud of someday. The only drug I've done since I've met you is pot, and trust me, that hasn't happened since I was fifteen. Listen, Waldorf, you aren't defined by your problem, and you couldn't get me to leave you alone even if you tried. Is that clear enough for you?"

Blair's eyes glisten with wetness and she blushes at Chuck's words. She nods mutely before suddenly straightening her back and putting on her mask of confidence. "I have a therapist, you know. Dr. Sherman. When I do something I shouldn't be doing, I make an appointment with him right away. I've got things under control."

"Control? Goddamnit, Blair, not everything needs to be controlled!" Chuck exclaims, frustrated. Blair's lower lip wavers and Chuck immediately feels guilty, lowering his tone. "Look. You can't tailor everything to your idea of a perfect life. What you need to do is tailor your idea of a perfect life to what's happening around you. The last thing I want for you is to live your life in this… this _fairytale_ world and then realize when you're eighty that it's all been an illusion. You are _not _fine if whatever you call your therapist for is still happening."

He knows he's being harsh, but if Chuck Bass has learned anything in his seventeen years, it's that naivety and denial in the Upper East Side are curses, not blessings. A tear falls freely down Blair's cheek and she doesn't bother to wipe it away. Chuck's words seem to be sinking into her, and several minutes pass before Blair speaks again. The silence is overwhelming, smothering them both, and Chuck suddenly fears that he's crossed the line this time because the only thing he knows about eating disorders is that eighty percent of models have them. He considers leaving, because the distressed look on Blair's face is too much for him to take, but luckily Blair's shaky voice breaks the tension. "What I was going to tell you before is that I was going to do it. I was going to do what you heard Casey accuse me of. But because you stayed with me, I didn't, and I was proud of myself, Chuck, really proud. I decided not to tell you because I was afraid you'd think differently of me."

Chuck gathers Blair in his arms. "You could kill a man and I wouldn't think differently of you. Mainly because it's something I can see you doing," he jests.

Blair laughs. "I wouldn't go that far, Bass. Maybe a little bodily damage, but never murder."

"Yeah, well you certainly gave me a bit of 'bodily damage' last night. " Chuck pulls back and gestures to the massive hickey Blair left on his neck last night.

Blair grimaces apologetically. "Ew, sorry. At least you can hide it with one of those scarves you always seem to be wearing."

Chuck pretends to be insulted. "You mean you _don't_ like big purple bruises on your skin?"

_Fuck_. He suddenly lowers his eyes, embarrassed at his lack of thoughtfulness in his words because Blair's injuries from the night before are screamingly apparent against the whiteness of her skin. "Blair, I'm so -"

"I know, Chuck. It's okay," Blair interjects, not allowing Chuck to finish his apology. She gets off of her bed, the sheet still wrapped around her body, and moves towards her vanity. She takes a seat on the small stool and traces the bruises on her face. "Is it as bad as I think it is?" Blair asks Chuck softly.

Chuck raises his head, his heart breaking at the sadness in her voice. He leans over the edge of the bed and retrieves his boxers, stepping into them and pulling them up before walking over to Blair. Chuck kneels behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist, and stares at their reflections in the mirror admiringly. He can't help but marvel at how good they look together, despite the markings on Blair's face. "Nothing a little cover-up can't fix, Waldorf," he lies, knowing full-well that it's going to take more than just a little cream to hide the dark bruises decorating her cheek and arm like battle wounds.

Blair smiles and turns to him, pressing her lips to his forehead tenderly. "Valiant effort, Bass, but even Dior can't help this."

Suddenly, there's a knock on the door and Dorota announces, "Miss Blair, Miss Serena here to see you!"

Blair and Chuck both jump to their feet. "Uh, one second, Dorota!" Blair shouts, hurrying to her closet to retrieve her satin robe. She drops the sheet in a rush before throwing the robe around herself, giving Chuck a peek of her perfectly-shaped backside.

_Nice ass_, he mouths to Blair with a grin as he jams one foot, and then another, into his pants. Blair shakes her head with a smile, and picks one of her shoes from the floor, throwing it at Chuck with a stifled laugh.

During this exchange, the door opens, and Serena bursts in with a big shopping bag. "Hey, B, I… Oh, wow…" she trails off, closing the door behind her and drops the bag on the floor. She looks in amusement at Blair and a half-naked Chuck, before clasping her hands together, jubilant. "I knew this would happen!" she exclaims triumphantly. "How long have you –"

"He stayed the night, S. It's no big deal," Blair admits, fumbling with the sash on her robe.

Serena turns her gaze to Chuck, wide-eyed with curiosity. Chuck shrugs nonchalantly and bends down to pick up his wifebeater. "It's true. I'm not complaining, and I daresay Blair isn't either, isn't that right, Waldorf?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Bass," Blair retorts sarcastically, trying to put on a façade in front of her best friend and failing utterly.

Chuck smirks. "No, but seriously, what was it that you were saying last night? I recall it was something to the effect of 'oh my God, Chuck'?"

"Yes, as in 'oh my God, you are repulsive,'" Blair counters, her cheeks flushing crimson.

Serena bites her lip, trying not to laugh, but her giggles tumble out of her mouth anyways. "You are ridiculous," she comments, shaking her head.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Blair asks, her hands on her hips.

Serena flips her blond hair over her shoulder. "Oh, nothing, B," she says casually. "I'm just saying, you can't think Chuck's _that _repulsive if you let him stay the night."

Chuck secretly applauds Serena's efforts. Wanting to give the girls their privacy (not that the word means anything to him), Chuck takes this opportunity to see himself out. "I've got to drop by my father's by noon. See you around, little sis," he says with a wave to Serena. Putting his lips to Blair's ear, he whispers, "My suite's always open, Waldorf. And you look divine. Don't forget that." Chuck's words leave Blair speechless, and all she can muster is a grateful nod as he walks out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

**xoxo**

Being the son of Bart Bass, Chuck's learned to do whatever he can to make sure he has the upper hand in his all aspects of his life, and so he stands silently at the door, listening to the conversation going on between Blair and Serena. Sure, it's a little intrusive, but since he had technically excused himself, the girls are none the wiser. Their words will be honest, and Chuck wants to know _exactly _what Blair thinks of him. Besides, judging from the past couple of days, it seems a lot can be discovered from eavesdropping.

"I can't believe you shared a bed with Chuck Bass, B!"

"Me neither, Serena, believe me."

"Well?"

"Well what, S? I'm not a mind-reader."

"Did you sleep with him, Blair, duh!"

"I plead the fifth."

"Oh. My. God! Okay, I can't say I'm surprised, but I'm so happy!"

"Ugh, is it really that obvious?"

"What? That you like Chuck?"

"No, Serena, that I'm a post-op tranny. Yes, that I like Chuck!"

"Well, is it obvious that Nate and Penelope have absolutely zero chemistry?"

"Oh, God! It _is _that obvious! What am I going to do?"

_Bingo_.

A smirk spreads across Chuck's face. Blair had finally admitted to Serena what he's known all along. The next step, Chuck decides, is to get her to confess it to him.

**xoxo**

_So, I wasn't expecting to have time to post this week, but I needed a distraction from studying, and here's what I came up with! I know that this chapter is short in comparison to the others, but I like it, and I also think it's important to the dynamic of the story. I'm taking off for Vegas tomorrow - cross your fingers I win big so I can buy my Louboutins (I'm a shoe freak lol), and as always, thanks for the reviews!_


	10. Chapter 10

**The Thawing**

_Chuck never knew his heart could beat until he saw Her. Multi-chap about Chuck's first encounter with Blair. AU, CB._

**Disclaimer:** Don't own, don't sue.

**xoxo**

When Chuck leaves Blair's penthouse and steps into his limo, he doesn't go to his father's; instead he directs his driver to 781 Fifth Avenue, or more specifically, Casey's luxury apartment within the Sherry-Netherland. After Blair fell asleep last night, Chuck had called his father's private investigator Andrew and ordered the P.I. to locate Casey's whereabouts, letting Chuck know immediately when the information was finally unearthed. Once Andrew revealed to Chuck where Casey was staying, the eager Bass used his iPhone to go online and booked a one-way ticket to Paris for this very afternoon.

The different scenarios that could transpire when he gets to Casey's play in Chuck's mind like a movie. Getting Casey out of New York might be a quick and easy process, or a long and difficult one. Maybe there'll be an additional cash bribe involved, or perhaps a secret beating courtesy of Chuck's old "friends". Either way, Chuck decides, the man that hurt Blair is shipping out of the city **today_._**

The vibrating of his phone brings Chuck back to reality, and he takes it out of his pocket, looking at the screen to see the Gossip Girl blast he's been expecting since the fight at the Underground.

**Wakey wakey, Upper East Siders! It seems like quite the drama happened last night and it involves a bruised up B, a coked out Blondie, and one pissed off C. You better watch your back, Blondie ; hell hath no fury like a Chuck Bass scorned.**

**XOXO,**

**Gossip Girl**

_Damn right_, he thinks.

Chuck deletes the post and settles in his seat with a thoughtful expression on his face. He can hardly wait to send Casey packing on the next flight to France. The main issue, he realizes, is getting Casey to accept the ticket and get the hell out of town. Hopefully, the Gossip Girl blast will have publically humiliated the Brit enough to get him to acquiesce.

Several minutes pass before the limo finally pulls up to the Sherry-Netherland. "Wait here," Chuck tells his driver. "This shouldn't take long."

_I hope_.

Chuck heads into the hotel and makes a bee-line towards the elevator. He presses the button for the twelfth floor. After getting out, Chuck walks down the hallways anxiously, muttering the door numbers under his breath until he finally reaches Casey's room, 1205.

He knocks on the door multiple times, his left thumb covering the peephole purposefully. The sounds of the chain sliding from locked to unlocked position can be heard and Casey says, "I didn't ask for any room service," as he opens the door. "Oh," Casey growls upon seeing Chuck, his face growing dark. "What you doing here, Bass?"

"Special delivery," Chuck smirks as he pulls the e-ticket from his breast pocket and waves it in Casey's face.

Casey grabs the paper out of Chuck's hand. "What the hell is this?" he asks sharply as he eyes the flight details.

"Not so quick on the uptake, I see," Chuck drawls. "It's your exit out of New York, Jacobs. Or should I call you Chris Brown?"

Casey glowers. "Listen here, I did _not_ mean to hurt Blair and you're delusional if you think you can intimidate me into leaving. Unlike your lapdogs, I don't take orders from you."

Chuck rests his arm against the doorframe, his left hand sliding comfortably into his pocket. An amused look crosses his face as he replies, "That may be so, but you have no reason to stay here any longer. You saw the Gossip Girl blast. It's over, Jacobs. You lost the game. Blair wants nothing to do with you. In fact, I daresay she wants _me. _Why don't you let me in so we can discuss your departure like gentlemen?"

Casey narrows his eyes and steps back before opening the door all the way. "We can talk, but not about my leaving. I'd actually like to explain what happened last night."

Shrugging, Chuck eyes the blonde's face and walks past Casey into the luxury apartment. "We'll see about that. Nice nose, by the way. Nathaniel has a fantastic right hook. I've been telling him to take up boxing," Chuck comments casually. He takes a seat on an ornate-looking beige divan and leans back, crossing his shoes atop the expensive fabric. Next, Chuck pulls a cigar out of his jacket pocket and clips it expertly.

"Such a respectful guest," Casey remarks, irritated at Chuck's antics.

Chuck lights the cigar with a match and puffs on it before blowing out smoke in deftly-made circles. "I'm not here to adhere to your cleanliness policies. I've got far more pressing issues at hand, like dealing with _you_."

"Christ, if I didn't know any better, I'd say 'Sympathy for the Devil' was written especially for you," Casey grumbles, walking to the kitchenette to grab a beer.

Chuck turns his head in Casey's direction. "Just a couple decades before my time, Jacobs. Thank you for the compliment, though," he simpers with a roguish gleam in his eye. "Not going to offer me a drink?" Chuck asks as the blonde comes back into the room with a Blue Moon in hand. "Now who's being disrespectful?"

Casey sits in a plush chair across from the divan and takes a long swig of his beer. "You're lucky I let you in at all."

"And you're lucky you didn't get your face destroyed after what you did to your own girlfriend last night," Chuck counters coolly. "I want you out of New York today. Permanently."

Casey sighs, exasperated, as he runs a hand through his thick, golden locks. "You have to hear me out. It wasn't like that, mate."

Chuck raises a skeptical eyebrow, chewing the cigar between his teeth before taking it out of his mouth. "Oh, really? Then what was it like, _mate_?"

Casey chugs the rest of his beer in an obvious attempt calm his nerves. "It was an accident. A stupid, misguided accident. I got the Gossip Girl blast earlier that day, about you and her leaving your hotel together. It pissed me off to say the least. Wouldn't you feel the same way if you were dating a chick and she was seen in last night's clothes with another guy? Well, anyways, this girl Kelly offered me blow after the set, before Blair came backstage. I was in guitar god mode. I thought I could be like my idols, you know, drugs, sex, rock-n-roll and all that. So I did a couple lines. I figured it would just give me a nice high for a little while and then I'd come down and be back to normal. Then, when I was trying to talk to Blair, she kept getting distracted by you and Kelly. What the hell is that, you know? I had to address her feelings for you, Bass. I couldn't sit on it any longer, and by that point my mind was brimming with so many different emotions I couldn't contain them. I snapped, mate. Fucking snapped. And I feel so incredibly guilty. I can't leave Blair. Not this way."

Chuck's jaw becomes rigid. He admits, the guy has a point about being mad after seeing the Gossip Girl blast. An image flickers in Chuck's mind of Blair walking out of Nate's place with a guilty look on her face, and he kind of sees where Casey's anger is coming from. The difference between the Casey and Chuck, however, is that Chuck knows that he would _never_ lay a hand on Blair, even in a coke-induced state, and even in his greatest fit of anger. Besides the fact that his tolerance for the drug is so high that it rarely affects him anyways, Chuck would just drown his sorrows in booze and pornos. Blair would never be safe with Casey, Chuck rationalizes, but she would _always_ be safe within the confines of suite 1812.

Even though sympathy sparks within Chuck for just a second, the spark is quickly extinguished at the thought of Blair's battered face. "You _can _and you _will _leave, Jacobs. There is no place for you here. Besides the fact that you'll forever be labeled as a woman-beater here, you're also my own personal enemy number one. Your family may be rich and powerful overseas, but New York is _Bass _territory, and trust me when I tell you, there is not enough room in this pond for the both of us."

Casey swallows hard and grips his empty beer bottle to the point where it looks like it could shatter. "But you don't understand. I'll never do it again. I love Blair."

"Right," Chuck snorts, "you _love _Blair. That's why you grabbed her so hard you left her black and blue. Get real, Jacobs. This isn't going to be an Ike and Tina 'love' story, and I want to make this perfectly clear: there _is_ no happy ending for you. You're not getting Blair, you're not getting a music career, you're not getting _anything_. If you decide to stay, I'll make sure of that."

Casey's shoulders heave heavily as he takes a deep, drawn out breath. "I want to hear it from her, then, that she doesn't love me."

His statement surprises Chuck. "Well, why don't you call her, Casanova?" Chuck suggests. "If I'd have known I was going to be getting full theatrics, I'd have brought popcorn."

Casey picks up his phone and glares at Chuck with hatred before dialing Blair.

"Blair, baby, it's me," Casey speaks into the phone, trying to keep his voice calm. "I… I just wanted to apologize for what I did last night. There's no excuse for it, absolutely none, and I really want to know that you'll forgive me. I'll take you to Tiffany's and maybe – what? No, Blair, you don't understand! I'll never, ever – quit cutting me off, babe. Hear me out. I'll do whatever it takes to make this right, Blair, I promise. I love you, and you love me, don't you?"

Casey doesn't speak for a long time and Chuck can only assume that Blair is the one doing all of the talking now. He studies the blonde's expression, watching the furrow in Casey's brow grow deeper, the frown on his face becoming more prominent. "And this is what you really want?" Casey's grave voice suddenly rejoins the one-sided conversation. Chuck's heart begins to pound in anticipation. "Fine, then that's what you'll get, Blair, but you'll regret it down the line. You've lived half of your life with me in it and if this is the way you're ending things then I'm not coming back. Just remember what I said yesterday. I was there for you. I doubt that he will be. Take care of yourself, Blair."

Casey flips his phone shut and sits as still as a statue. Chuck can't even tell if the guy's breathing, but apparently the conversation has gone well because the next thing Casey says is, "Give me the ticket."

Smirking, Chuck hands Casey the e-ticket and slyly asks, "I take it you didn't get the answer you wanted?"

Casey snatches the piece of paper out of Chuck's hand angrily. "No, as a matter of fact I didn't, all thanks to _you_. You're nothing but a dirty, arrogant bastard, you know that, Bass?"

Chuck shrugs nonchalantly. "Yeah, but I always get what I want, so apparently being a dirty, arrogant bastard works for me."

"Well, I hope you're satisfied," Casey remarks. "Blair told me just now she didn't love me, that she had feelings for someone else. I wonder who that could be, hm? At any rate, Bass, I sure as hell hope you know what you're getting into with that one. She's got quite the knack for regurgitating her meals," He turns his back to Chuck and opens the door to the apartment, gesturing to the triumphant Bass something along the lines of _get the hell out_.

As Chuck exits the apartment, he winks at Casey. "Oh, I've already gotten myself into her, don't worry about that."

Chuck's never seen a jaw actually fall to the floor before, but there's a first time for everything.

**xoxo**

_Hey everyone, hope you guys liked this one! I wanted Casey to gtfo out of my story as soon as possible because I didn't want to keep having Blair interact with this scumbag. Anyways, this chapter's shorter in comparison to the others, too, but I've decided I much prefer to end chapters where I feel they naturally end instead of trying to add in more stuff for the sake of length. Besides, quality over quantity, right? Annnnyways, how about that finale? I was PISSED, and surprisingly not so much at Jenny as I was at Chuck... and then that ring! Was he honestly going to propose to B after devirginizing little J! GAH. Stupid Basstard! /rant... Oh, and I won three hundo in Vegas guys, so your well-wishes came through for me =) Thanks for the reviews as always!_


	11. Chapter 11

**The Thawing**

_Chuck never knew his heart could beat until he saw Her. Multi-chap about Chuck's first encounter with Blair. AU, CB._

**Disclaimer:** Don't own, don't sue.

**xoxo**

This time, when Chuck gets back into the limo, he is grinning from ear to ear (there have only been a handful of times he's actually smiled and the bulk of them had taken place after hitting the joint hard). He can't believe how easy it was to get rid of Casey, and while he's not complaining, Chuck can only hope the dude stays away. He also hopes that his little visit to Mr. James' apartment won't come back to bite him in the ass.

Taking a celebratory gulp of whiskey out of his flask, Chuck eases back into his seat. He directs his driver Arthur back to his hotel and pulls out his iPod Nano from the inner breast pocket of his jacket. Few people are aware that Chuck Bass has any sort of musical taste; if only they could see the large array of artists that Chuck clicks past before finally settling on "Mr. Right" by Mickey Avalon.

"_Who's that dude sleepin' with your girlfriend, getting' lewd and rude in your bed,_" Chuck sings along (albeit terribly) under his breath. He can't carry a tune for the life of him, but damn it if Chuck Bass doesn't enjoy his private limo karaoke time.

The sound of "Candy Shop" by Dan Band coming from Chuck's iPhone interrupts his jam session and Chuck scowls, annoyed as he removes his ear buds and reaches for his cell. The screen flashes **Blair** and the scowl immediately disappears from Chuck's face, replaced with a pleased smirk. "Hello sweetness," he greets her.

"Hi Chuck," Blair replies casually.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" asks Chuck, cradling his phone between his neck and head while he uses one of his monogrammed handkerchiefs to dry his sweating palms.

_Damn nerves_.

Blair pauses and Chuck can sense that she is about as flustered as he pretends not to be. "Meet me on the steps of the Met in fifteen minutes."

"Why? Public sex is punishable by law," Chuck answers with a mischievous grin that he knows if Blair were to see, he'd receive a slap to the back of the head.

Sighing loudly, Blair snaps, "Just do it, Bass. Don't make me ask twice."

"Alright, alright. I suppose I can stop by. Don't get your panties in a bunch," Chuck acquiesces in a bored voice that he hopes will get Blair to be a little more… giving in her affections.

"Seeing as how I'm not wearing any, that won't be hard to do," Blair returns teasingly, as if seeing his bet and raising it double.

Chuck's mouth falls open at her admission. He loosens his tie – _when did it get so hot in here? _– and starts, "I –"

"Ta!" Blair interrupts before hanging up the phone.

Chuck is met with a dial tone. "Damn you, Blair Waldorf," he mutters under his breath before lowing the partition between Arthur and himself and barking, "Forget the hotel. Go to the Met instead."

"The Met?" Arthur grins mutedly. "Since when is Mr. Bass a fan of modern art?"

Chuck drinks out of his flask again in anticipation. "Since I've got a chance at landing _the _most gorgeous piece of arm candy the Upper East Side has seen in ages."

Arthur quirks an eyebrow knowingly. "Arm candy, Mr. Bass?" the elderly driver inquires, his tone skeptical.

Running a hand through his gelled hair, Chuck bites his cheek. "Shouldn't you be focused on, say, navigating through traffic without getting us both killed rather than dissecting my personal life?"

Chuck knows that Arthur won't take his mildly insulting words to heart; after all, the driver's been with the family for over ten years and while Chuck's had his share of rude moments, he's also been incredibly generous towards the gray-haired man. For Christmas Eve last year, Chuck had invited Arthur and family (kids and grandkids included) to Lily's annual soiree and surprised his favorite Bass employee with two tickets to St. Tropez.

Of course, a week later, Chuck had thrown a glass of scotch at the window partition in a fit of anger because traffic was heavy and Arthur could not fly the limo over New York City, so in the end, the driver is _definitely_ familiar with Chuck's tendency to be temperamental. Truth be told, Chuck's always thought of Arthur as the Alfred to his Bruce Wayne, though Chuck has no alter ego and his only power is bribery.

"Of course, Mr. Bass. You're completely right," Arthur answers calmly, before pressing a button that raises the tinted glass that separates employer and employee once again.

**xoxo**

Soon, the limo pulls up in front of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and Chuck opens the door, stepping out a little too eagerly. He knocks on the passenger sign window as a sign of gratitude to his driver, and proceeds to make his way towards the enormous stone steps. Dark eyes scan the crowd for Blair, and when chocolate curls swing bouncily into his vision, Chuck leaps forward. "Hey beautiful," he whispers into her ear, turning her slender frame towards him.

Chuck leans into to kiss plump rose lips but is pushed back swiftly. "What the hell do you think you're doing, creep!" a woman who is certainly not Blair Waldorf shouts angrily, pushing him again.

"I apologize. I was looking for someone else," Chuck replies, slightly embarrassed. "Someone else" is right; this woman has the leathery skin of an elephant and teeth like pats of butter and Chuck is positive she can pass for a mummy at the museum if she so wishes.

The woman sneers, "Yeah, pal, well look the other direction!" She smooths the wrinkles out of her cheaply-made blouse and crosses her arms in intimidation.

Chuck raises a brow. He can't help himself. "Since when did the Met allow West Side trash on its premises?" he asks, quite serious.

"Why you son-of-a-"

"Oh, Chuck! I've been looking everywhere for you!" Blair's jubilant voice interrupts the woman's tirade and she prances up to Chuck, slipping her arm around his. "You've just _got _to see the new Taylor exhibit! You'll have to excuse us, ma'am, the line is getting rather long."

As Blair pulls Chuck away, he watches her in amusement. "Line? You know we don't wait in lines, Blair."

"Obviously," Blair says, rolling her eyes, "but Jocelyn Wildenstein over there doesn't know that." She drags him halfway up the stairs and they both sit down on the large step.

"Right, so exactly _how_ long were you watching me before you decided to swoop in and save the day?" Chuck smirks.

Blair shrugs with a cheery grin on her face. "Oh, I saw it all. I was just laughing too hard at first to do anything about."

"Ever the thoughtful one, I see," Chuck drawls sarcastically. "So, praytell, what are we doing here? I suspect my getting in an argument with the crack child of Whitney and Bobby wasn't in the itinerary."

"No, but it did make for some mild entertainment, at least for me," Blair answers, her smile fading. "Really, though, Chuck, we're here because I wanted to tell you something. Something kind of big."

Chuck feigns ignorance. "And what would that be? I can't see anything being bigger than the revelation that you're not wearing panties." His eyes lower towards Blair's lap suggestively.

"Shut up, Bass! You can't possibly think that I was serious," Blair says sharply before softening her tone. "I broke up with Casey. It happened just this afternoon. I wanted to tell you in person."

"You don't say," Chuck replies, pretending to be surprised. "Well, it's about time, Waldorf. And you made this a special occasion why?"

Blair raises her head indignantly, trying to hide her blushing cheeks. "It's not a special occasion. It's nothing at all. I just thought you should know that I'm –"

"Ripe and ready for the picking," Chuck cuts her off and presses his forehead against hers. "You know I've been dying to call you mine, and now there's nothing to hold you – or me – back."

Chucks lips bristle against Blair's gently. Her breath is saccharine-smelling, like cherries mixed with peppermint, and Chuck's tongue instinctively darts out to taste it.

_Victory's never tasted so sweet_, his mind buzzes.

Blair suddenly pulls back, and with a sugary smile and a tilt of the head, says, "I say we talk."

This time, Chuck is genuinely taken by surprise. "What? Talk? Why?"

"Easy, Detective Bass," Blair grins, locking her arms around Chuck's neck. "I just think we should get to know each other better before we go any further. I feel like I hardly know anything about you."

Chuck smirks. "We've already gone pretty far according to last night's festivities, and I already know you outside and… in."

Blair shakes her head. "Nope, not going there, Chuck Bass. We are going to take a long walk and have a nice conversation. There will absolutely no mention of last night. We're starting fresh."

"Virgin reborn?" Chuck asks smarmily.

"Single for life?" Blair snaps in reply.

"Cool your jets, Waldorf," Chuck says with both hands raised. "I was just kidding. Whatever you want to do. Honest."

Blair smiles, appeased. She gets to her feet and tugs down the hem of her lavender Michael Kors sheath dress. Bending down and patting Chuck on the head, she teases, "Good boy."

"Starting fresh does _not_ mean I'll be referred to using pet names, I'll have you know," Chuck grumbles as he stands up, fixing his messed hair.

"Whatever you say, _sweetness_," Blair laughs, echoing Chuck's earlier greeting. "By the way, notice anything special?"

Chuck purses his lips as he scans Blair's figure. His eyes drift from her black Louboutins all the way up to her silk, diamond encrusted Maison|Michel headband that looks strangely like… "You're finally wearing it?" Chuck asks, his attempt to mask his joy a failed one.

"What do you think?" Blair twirls around as if the motion will showcase the headband better.

Lifting a hand to the headband, Chuck caresses the fabric. "It's decadent and one-of-a-kind. It certainly belongs on you," he says admiringly.

Blair bats her lashes playfully. "Why thank you, Bass. If you're trying to win my heart with flattery, it's working," she teases, grabbing Chuck's hand in her own. "Now take me on a tour of Central Park. I'm dying to see what all the fuss is about!"

Truthfully, the only time that Chuck's been to Central Park had been when he lost his virginity to Georgina Sparks underneath the bridge. It hadn't been very memorable, apart from the bum approaching them mid-intercourse and commenting that he's seen better sex acts take place in the junkyard. Naturally, Chuck isn't eager to take Blair on any "tour". "Why don't we go to STK or something? The only thing I've ingested today was cigar fumes," Chuck suggests hopefully.

Shaking her head vigorously, Blair replies, "No way. We're doing this on _my _terms this time around."

"You've got to be kidding me," Chuck groans. "I offer you a two hundred dollar meal at an expensive restaurant and you want to take a leisurely, and might I add_, free_, walk in the park?"

Blair drops Chuck's hand and saunters down the stairs, her hips swaying from side to side. "The best things in life are free, you know. Laughing, sunbathing… sex," she preaches, tossing the last word over her shoulder with a seductive smirk.

Swallowing hard, Chuck struggles to keep the upper hand that he quickly seems to be losing. "Coming from Miss Dior over here, I find that hard to believe," he returns dryly.

"A girl's gotta look good while partaking in said activities," Blair defends herself.

"You don't need a Chanel dress to fuck," Chuck points out. In the end, though, he decides to catch up to Blair, walking briskly until he is at her side. It takes hardly any time at all to enter the park and it's clear that Blair's already won this game. She wraps her arm around his and leans against Chuck's shoulder as they stroll lazily along the cement path.

"Central Park really is beautiful," Blair admires dreamily. "I can almost imagine Prince Philip galloping through here on his big white horse."

Confused, Chuck asks, "Prince Philip?"

"From _Sleeping Beauty_," Blair explains. "Although I hear the real version of that was way less romantic. Something about the prince getting it on with Briar-Rose while she slept. I prefer the Disney version."

Chuck watches Blair as she marvels over the lushness of the park's vegetation. "Not me," he murmurs. "How can you know what good is without a little evil?"

Blair doesn't respond for a good minute. "Chuck," she says suddenly.

"Blair?" he answers.

Blair squeezes his arm affectionately. "Tell me something about yourself that you've never told anyone."

Chuck furrows his brow. "Like a deep dark secret? Waldorf, most of those are already out in the public. Check the _Times_."

"No, tell me anything. Whatever you want to share," Blair replies.

The two walk in silence for a couple minutes before Chuck opens his mouth to speak. "Alright, but if you tell anyone, I'll personally ship you back to Paris." _Like I did Casey_, he adds in his head.

Blair makes a zipping gesture across her lips.

"Fine. Sometimes… sometimes I listen to the Godfather theme song while I'm getting ready in the morning."

"Oh. My. God," Blair laughs, her hand over her mouth. Chuck glares at her. "Okay, I'm sorry. I promise. It's just… such a 'Chuck Bass' thing to do!"

"I like to think I bear some resemblance to Vito Corleone," Chuck replies quite seriously. "In presence - not in looks, of course. But now it's your turn, Waldorf. What's one of your dirty little secrets?"

"Well…" Blair bites her lip in thought. "Okay, here's something. When I lived in Paris, I had a dog, Sir Charles. Don't even ask; Daddy's a huge Suns fan for some strange reason. Anyways, one day he brought a cake home from one of the local bakeries for Roman's birthday. I… I ate it all and when Daddy found the empty platter and asked me about it, I blamed it on Sir Charles. Daddy was so furious that Sir Charles was literally in the doghouse for the rest of the night. It rained for hours."

Chuck tries to ignore the obvious implications of her admission, instead focusing on the dog. "What happened to him?"

Blair sighs. "He caught pneumonia and almost died. When we brought Sir Charles home from the vet, I told Daddy the truth and my sweet dog has been treated like a king ever since. I still feel terrible guilt because of it, though."

Chuck rubs her shoulder. "Trust me, Blair, lying about a cake is nothing compared to some of the stuff that I've done."

Looking up at him quizzically, Blair asks, "Like what?"

An image of Evelyn Bass flashes in his head and Chuck suddenly clams up. "Forget it."

He doesn't like to talk about his mother, about how his birth caused her death, about how that is the reason Bart hardly talks to him. No, Chuck had already buried those simple facts in the deepest part of his mind and forever there they will stay.

Obviously Blair senses his uneasiness and backs off. "Alright, all is forgotten. Except for the fact you think you're the Godfather," she jests lightly, her airy voice bringing Chuck back to reality.

Their stroll soon brings them to the bridge where Chuck lost his virginity. His expression turns sour and Blair evidently notices "What's wrong?" she asks him, slightly concerned.

Chuck looks as if he's bitten into a lemon. "More bad memories," he answers vaguely.

"What? Did you get mugged here or something?"

Smirking, Chuck shakes his head. "I'm a Bass. Basses don't get mugged. They do, however, give up their v-card to bloodsucking succubae against walls of Central Park bridges."

Blair groans. "You've got to be kidding me. A bridge, Chuck? Really? How old were you?"

"I was thirteen. Obviously an unlucky number as my partner was Georgina Sparks," Chuck answers.

"Georgina Sparks, huh?" Blair looks around the area and is satisfied at the lack of people. Leading Chuck underneath the bridge, she smiles, biting her lower lip playfully. "Forget Miss Sparks. I have an idea."

Chuck follows her to the middle of the bridge wall, where Blair stops and leans back against the stone. "And what would that be?" Chuck whispers lowly, his eyes focused hungrily on Blair's glossy lips.

"Why don't we create some… _good_ memories here?"

Blair strokes the nape of Chuck's back with her fingertips and pulls him close to her in a long kiss. Chuck's hands find themselves roughly gripping Blair's svelte waist, the friction of fabrics causing her dress to ride up slightly. Pulling back, Chuck pants, "What happened to not wanting to take things further? We can stop if you'd like."

Blair's chest rises and falls rapidly. "No, don't stop. I didn't want to rush things," she breathes urgently, " but it can't be helped. You just do something to me, Bass, and it's driving me crazy." She crashes her lips greedily against Chuck's and takes his large hand in her own tiny one. Guiding his hand up her thigh, Blair sighs, content, against Chuck's ear.

When they finish, the only name in his head, on his lips, in his mouth is _Blair_ and Chuck is more than satisfied with that.

**xoxo**

_I suck! I can't believe it's been so long since I've updated, but truthfully I had a case of writer's block. I'm really, really pleased with how this chapter turned out, though, so I hope it's enough to appease you guys! Also, yes I know that Basses indeed _DO_ get mugged apparently but I thought that was a cop-out SL so it'll never happen in here, lol. __BTW I was watching a Lifetime movie starring Eleanor Waldorf (idk the actress' name, don't really care either lol. She's Eleanor to me) while I was writing this chapter so it was kind of funny. I think that Michael Cera kid was in it, too. Is it me or does he always play the exact same character? I'm rambling now... Annnnyways, thanks for reading and GO HAWKS =)_


	12. Chapter 12

**The Thawing**

_Chuck never knew his heart could beat until he saw Her. Multi-chap about Chuck's first encounter with Blair. AU, CB._

**Disclaimer:** Don't own, don't sue.

**xoxo**

Blair readjusts her ornate black headband and tucks several tendrils of hair behind her ears while Chuck buckles his leather belt in a rush to avoid being caught by innocent park-goers.

"I can't believe we just did that," Blair pants breathlessly. "If you say so much as a word to –"

Chuck thumbs smeared gloss from beneath Blair's bottom lip. "Don't worry, Waldorf. I'm a vault," he reassures her, taking Blair's hand and pulling her forward as they make their way out from under the bridge. "Besides, your seal is tight, too," Chuck adds with a wink, wrapping an arm around Blair's shoulder and jostling her teasingly.

"You couldn't resist, could you?" Blair says, rolling her eyes. "Double entendres are so last fall."

A playful smirk appears on Chuck's face as he says, "But you'll let me slide because –"

"You're Chuck Bass? Nope, I don't think so," Blair returns, smiling coyly. "In fact, I think a proper punishment for you involves Bergman's and a credit card!"

"Ahhh, so Blair Waldorf can be bribed into being merciful?" Chuck inquires, bringing his hand to his chin and stroking it thoughtfully.

Blair slaps his arm in mock indignation. "The Waldorf's do not take bribes!" she says defensively, pausing before adding, "Unless said bribe comes in form of Tiffany's or Cartier, of course."

"I'll be sure to remember that," Chuck responds, amused.

Chuck shoves a hand in his pocket as they continue through Central Park, their gait slow and lazy. He doesn't remember ever feeling so… _normal_, and for a split second, Chuck is terrified. Chuck Bass gets drunk and stoned, not butterflies in his stomach at the sight of a pair of strong cappuccino eyes. The sensation of Blair's soft skin squeezing his own quickly makes Chuck's anxiety dissipate, and he looks down at her with admiring eyes. "Can I help you?" Chuck asks, his tone light.

"I want to know something about you that doesn't involve mob movie soundtracks," Blair tells him. "Something that helps me get to know the _real _you, because I know there's more to Chuck Bass than scotch and money and exotic dancers."

Chuck lets out a faint rush of air. "I don't think so," he answers decidedly. _The real me is a monster_, Chuck thinks darkly.

Blair's face falls, her the corners of her pink lips turning downwards. "I give you sex under a bridge and you can't even give me a few sentences?" she asks, disappointed as she drops his hand, much to Chuck's dismay. "I thought you said I was different, Chuck. So why can't you trust me?"

Chuck's face is expressionless, but behind the stoic mask, emotions are swirling violently. Sure, Blair thinks she can handle him now, but will she really want to be with him once Chuck shows his true colors? Once she finds out he paid her boyfriend to leave the country?

Chuck knows that he hasn't always been the cold, conniving Bass he is now. A specific memory is conjured in his head, the date Chuck can remember as being May 19, 2001. Less importantly, it was his the date of his tenth birthday, but birthdays had never really been celebrated in the Bass family, for reasons Chuck knew involved him.

**xoxo**

_A newly ten-year-old Charles Bartholomew Bass looks into his full-length mirror and wraps a black strip of fabric along the back of his neck, carefully bringing the fabric to the front and transforming it expertly into a perfectly-crafted tie. He smiles a toothy smile; his front tooth is just growing in and it leaves him looking a little goofy and awkward, like the dowdy boys that go to the public schools.  
_

_After perfecting his tie, Chuck reaches for a bottle of blue gel on his dresser and squeezes a quarter-sized amount into the palm of his tiny hand. Chuck parts his hair to the left and then works the gel into his thick dark strands, giving his reflection a baby smirk when he finishes (he'd recently watched "Casablanca" for the first time and Humphrey Bogart had become Chuck's newest idol). _

_Taking one more look into the mirror, Chuck inhales deeply, and then, in an action contradictory to his polished appearance, bolts out of his room shouting, "Tentententententententen! I'm two whole numbers now, Father!"_

_He runs around the penthouse, frenzied, until he reaches the end of the hallway that is marked off by a closed door. Chuck wraps his small hands around the knob and pushes the door open in excitement. "Father! I –"_

"_Quiet, Charles," the deep, stern voice of Bart Bass greets the young boy. Bart sits behind a large oak desk with his head hung low in two veiny hands. A picture frame lies flat on the desk underneath his hands, and Bart's eyes remain trained on the frame, not even once flickering up to meet his son. _

_Chuck walks meekly into the room, his head bowed low. "But it's my birthday, father," his high voice protests, though weakly. _

_Bart's head suddenly snaps up and his steely gray eyes focus on Chuck discerningly. "So it is," he comments, his tone chilly and detached. "Come over here, Charles. I have something to show you."_

_Interest piqued, Chuck shuffles his little loafer-clad feet towards Bart's desk and walks around the wood, stopping at his father's daunting black chair. He strains to see the picture within the frame that Bart is now holding, and asks, "Is it a present? One just for me?"_

_Bart raises a brow and stands the frame up, revealing an image of a woman with brilliant chestnut hair and kind brown eyes. The woman's ruby-painted lips are poised in a pleasant smile, and her smooth skin is radiant and glowing. She bears an eerie resemblance to the young Bass, and Chuck is mesmerized. "Mother," he says in a hushed voice. _

_Suddenly jerking the picture away, Bart hisses, "A gift is not always a blessing, Charles. Sometimes, it is also a curse." Bart next reaches into one of his desk drawers and pulls out a vibrant yellow scarf, placing it into one of Chuck's miniature hands. _

_Chuck lifts watery brown eyes to meet his father, his brows furrowed in confusion. "What's this for?" he asks in the naïve way that only a child can ask._

_Bart sighs. "It was your mother's," he answers without any further explanation._

"_But Father –"_

"_I have work to do, Charles," Bart cuts his son off, suddenly pretending to be very interested in his legal pad. "Arthur will be taking you wherever you want to go this afternoon."_

_Chuck's bottom lip wavers but he refuses to cry; instead, he bites his cheek, straightens his stance, and gives his father an obedient nod. "Thank you," he says as he turns on his heels and makes towards the office door. _

"_Happy birthday, son," Bart calls out as Chuck leaves, shutting the door behind him._

_Chuck runs back to his room, his shoes pitter-pattering on the hardwood floor. He rips the tie from around his neck and throws it as far as his little arms will allow him. His reflection in the mirror catches Chuck's eye, and as he wraps his mother's bright yellow scarf around his neck, the ten-year-old boy's dreams of a happy birthday quickly disappear. _

**xoxo**

Chuck absentmindedly thumbs the lime green ascot around his neck, his jaw rigid as Blair watches him with nervous eyes. The pair had stopped walking a few seconds ago, as Blair had narrowly saved a preoccupied Chuck from walking into a park bench. "Chuck, I'm sorry. Was it something I said?" Blair asks concernedly, touching a smooth hand to his cheek.

Blair's voice reaches his subconscious, and Chuck suddenly springs back to reality, shaking his head quickly from side to side as if stirring from a daydream. "Uh, no," Chuck mumbles, wiping sweat from his brow and collecting himself. "No, I'm fine. No need to phone the white-coats."

Blair quirks a brow. "There are plenty of things that I could have had you institutionalized for, but not this. You looked completely out of it. What happened?" Chuck sighs and sits down on the bench he had almost collided with minutes earlier. Blair follows suit and she places a hand on his right leg, squeezing his thigh in reassurance. "It's okay. You can tell me," she whispers tenderly.

"I just… Remember the first night I met you?" Chuck asks shakily.

Blair smiles fondly. "How could I forget?"

"I told you my mother died," he responds slowly. "and…"

"And what?" Blair presses softly, her eyes boring into Chuck as if she can see right through him.

Chuck closes his eyes. "And… and it sucks."

Blair wraps a thin arm around Chuck's back, and when she pulls him in close to her, it's as if all of Chuck's troubles are transferred from him to her. Blair presses her lips gently to the top of Chuck's head and whispers, "I know, Chuck, but one day, everything will be okay. For both of us."

Blair's phone suddenly rings – "Fantasy" by Mariah Carey – and Chuck abruptly jolts upright, embarrassed at his vulnerable behavior. Black dots scatter across his vision, and as Blair chatters into her cell, Chuck presses his fingertips to his forehead. He's definitely getting a headache and the only thing that will fix that is four Tylenol and a glass of scotch.

_If this is where honesty gets me, I prefer to be a liar_, Chuck thinks to himself bitterly.

Blair shuts her open and turns to Chuck. "S and a few others are going out tonight since we have off tomorrow for Labor Day. If you want, we can go get dinner and then –"

"Please, Blair, I just need to go home," Chuck sighs, his stomach lurching as he gets to his feet.

A bewildered expression appears on Blair's face and she eyes him warily before answering, "O…kay. If you want me to stay with you tonight, I will. I'm not a huge fan of public debauchery anyways. It doesn't mix well with Yale ambitions."

Chuck shakes his head, immediately regretting it as he presses a hand over his eyes. "No, go out with Serena, Blair, please. I really just want to lie down."

Blair frowns. "If you need anything, just call and I'll –"

Physical pain does not a happy Bass make, and Blair's voice, as sweet as it is, is still too damn loud for Chuck to deal with right now. "Christ, can you stop talking for just _one_ second?" he asks between gritted teeth.

Blair's pretty brown eyes are clearly full of hurt. "Okay," she starts, nodding her head. "Okay, I'll 'just stop talking'. And while we're at it, _you_, Chuck Bass, can stop pushing away people who just want to help you." Blair starts walking ahead of him, turning around only to add, "Call me when you decide to stop being a stubborn idiot."

Chuck's headache officially becomes a migraine as he watches Blair leave him behind.

**xoxo**

_What? Two updates in two days? I am as surprised as you guys are, haha! Anyways, this might be one of my favorite chapters because I really enjoyed how the flashback turned out. Poor wittle bitty Bass, right? I'm a little concerned people aren't liking this story as much anymore, but I still love it so I'll keep going. Thanks to my reviewers; you are all much appreciated!_


	13. Chapter 13

**The Thawing**

_Chuck never knew his heart could beat until he saw Her. Multi-chap about Chuck's first encounter with Blair. AU, CB._

**Disclaimer:** Don't own, don't sue.

**xoxo**

It's only six thirty in the evening and already the shades in Chuck's suite are drawn. The curtains are closed shut, shrouding his room in darkness, and the master of the bedroom himself is lying silently on his bed with a cold rag over his forehead. Chuck hasn't had a migraine like this since Bart and Lily's divorce, and he can only attribute it to anxiety. The Vicodin he had recently taken is starting to kick in, but it's not enough.

_Out of all the genes Father possesses, he gives me the propensity for migraines_, Chuck laments as he places a hand on his head.

Chuck wonders what Blair is doing now; he regrets letting his temper get the best of him, but truth be told, when Chuck Bass is sick or in pain, he is downright rotten to anyone and everyone. When he'd been sick with swine flu, Lily insisted on him staying at the van der Woodsen penthouse and by day three, Chuck had succeeded in scaring away three out of the four doctors that Lily had called to attend to him.

Eric had dubbed Chuck's stay with the van der Woodsen's "the week the Naomi Campbell came to visit" but when a sick Chuck caught wind of it, he threw a Kleenex box at his little brother and, in turn, got scolded by Lily. He pretended to be mad, but little did everyone know, Chuck had grinned underneath his covers.

Presently, he's sick and tired and pissed off that nobody's around to hear him complain.

Chuck rolls onto his side, empty stomach nauseous and growling at the same time, and reaches for his cell phone. No new voicemails, no new messages, no nothing.

Wait, scratch that. Just as Chuck checks his phone, an inbox notification flashes across the screen, from Nate. Chuck taps the button on the screen and reads the message.

**Hey dude. Boozin tonite?**

Chuck purses his lips. **No. Migraine. Just took a Vic & a shot. I'm good for the night.**

**Ouch. U Sure? I'm supposed to go out w/ S & B.**

The light from the screen is starting to bother his eyes and Chuck's answer is short and sweet. ** I'm sure.**

Chuck does _not _want Blair to go out. Hell no. She's single now (well, technically, but in theory, she's _his_) and if Gossip Girl hasn't heard about it by now, she sure will by the end of the night. On the other hand, he knows that if he'd asked Blair to stay with him, that she would have, but there is no way Chuck wants her to see him like this, pouting in his bed like some whiny little child.

And so Chuck closes his eyes and sinks back into his mattress, at least as far back as the firm material will allow. Sleep comes eventually, accompanied with the ever-present jackhammering currently taking place within his head.

**xoxo**

A loud knock on the door jolts Chuck out of his sleep, and he rockets upward, much to his head's dismay.

"What the fuck," he mutters under his breath, throwing his feet over the side of the bed and slipping them into his plush black slippers. Chuck looks at his alarm clock.

11:53 pm.

Chuck wonders who could possibly be visiting at this hour (after all, call girls are not conducive to proper recuperation from a migraine), and shuffles across the suite towards the door. He squints through the peephole, prepared to send Victoria or Cindy or whoever this chick is back to the brothel she came from, but instead finds a curious dark eye staring back at him.

Chuck furrows his brow, wincing as he unlocks the door and opens it, allowing unwelcome light from the hallway to spill into the suite.

"Blair?" Chuck asks in surprise, stepping back and blinking twice to adjust to the light.

"Of course it's me," Blair informs him authoritatively. "I can't imagine you were expecting anyone else tonight judging by your current ensemble."

Chuck manages a weak smirk as Blair steps into the suite and shuts the door behind her. "What brings you here?" asks a bewildered Chuck. "I hate to break it to you, but for once, I'm not in the mood for any late-night rendezvous."

Blair shakes her head vigorously, chocolate curls bouncing. "I'm not either, Bass." She holds up an eco-friendly bag and smiles. "I'm here to help you get better." Blair sets the bag down on the counter and pulls out a small vial.

Chuck picks up the bag and examines it, amused. "I wasn't aware you were a treehugger," he comments.

Shrugging, Blair replies, "I wasn't, until Alexander McQueen unveiled _this_ baby. Isn't it wonderful?"

"Simply darling," Chuck drawls sarcastically. "What's in the vial? Planning to poison me and steal my billions?"

Blair snaps the bag from Chuck's hands. "No, I most certainly am _not_, Bass! I have my own fortune, thank you very much." She picks up the vial from the counter and shakes it in his face. "It's lavender oil mixed with honey. Daddy always used it when he had bad migraines. It's supposed to be a miracle remedy or something like that."

"My miracle remedies usually involve class A narcotics," Chuck says skeptically. "And how do you know I have a migraine? Stalking's illegal, you know."

Rolling her eyes, Blair answers, "Nate told me when we were at 1Oak. That's when I realized you were being a big miserable toddler earlier today because you weren't feeling well, so decided I didn't care that you were trying to be tough." Blair palms the vial and grabs Chuck's hand, leading him into his bathroom, adding, "I stopped by my place and picked up the oil mixture. I always have it on hand because it reminds me of Daddy. Now, you, Chuck Bass, get the pleasure of being my patient this evening."

Chuck's stomach lurches, this time from the butterflies flying around excitedly within him, but a splitting pain in his head kills the fluttering immediately. "Alright, Waldorf, slather me in oil," he winces, not even bothering to add the usual perviness to his comment.

"I'm not giving you a massage, Chuck. Sorry to burst your bubble," Blair smiles teasingly as she leans down and turns on the water, adjusting the temperature to "hot". While the water runs, Blair opens the vial of lavender oil and honey and pours several drops into the tub. "Now strip," Blair commands.

"I already told you I wasn't in the mood for sex, Blair," growls Chuck, before softening his tone, more for his sake than for Blair's. "Although I can't blame you for trying."

Blair puts her hands on her hips, not amused, and not messing around. "And _I _already told _you_ that I wasn't either, so either you take off that heinous robe or I'll do it myself!"

Raising an eyebrow, impressed at Blair's tenacity, Chuck obeys, dropping his robe to the ground and stepping out of his silk pajama pants. "You'd make a great dominatrix," he says.

Blair crosses her arms, smiling. "Of course I would. Waldorf's excel at everything." She scans his figure before pursing her lips. "Now, do you normally bathe in your boxers or has Chuck Bass lost his nerve?"

Chuck gives her a knowing smirk. "I'm beginning to suspect this is more for your entertainment than for my well-being," he jests as he takes off his boxers and steps gingerly into the hot water. "Christ, Waldorf, are you trying to boil me?" hisses Chuck as the water rises with his weight.

"Shh," Blair gestures authoritatively as she steps out of the bathroom for a minute, returning with a couple of aromatherapy candles that she had apparently brought in the eco-friendly McQueen bag. Lighting the wicks, Blair turns around with a pleased smile on her face, clearly happy with her work.

Chuck repositions himself in the bathtub and looks at Blair skeptically. "No offense, but I think I prefer my method of pain relief."

"Just wait and see, Bass," Blair replies casually.

The aroma of lavender begins filling the air as the fog steams up the mirrors. Blair sits on the edge of the bathtub and trails her fingers in the water as Chuck leans his head back on a rolled-up towel that Blair had set up for him. She watches him, patient eyes on closed ones.

The silence is welcome, and the candles are nearly burned out when Chuck finally opens his eyes and looks at Blair, not quite knowing what to say. The drilling in his head has faded to a dull throb, downgraded from a migraine to the remnants of a headache, and his stomach doesn't feel queasy anymore. "How do you feel?" Blair asks tenderly, her warm eyes filled with concern.

"Much better," Chuck replies truthfully. "Who would have thought water would make a migraine go away? I sincerely thought that scotch was the way to go."

Blair points a finger at Chuck as if to scold him. "It was the oil, not the water. And unlike most people, I don't hate to say this – I told you so."

Chuck shrugs and pretends to examine the light freckles on his arm. "Well, either way, you didn't have to come here tonight," he mumbles. "I can take care of myself."

Secretly, Chuck is thankful she did.

Blair scoots over towards Chuck and smiles apologetically. "I know I didn't have to come, but to tell you the truth, I was getting bored of watching Serena and Nate playing grab ass. I'll be surprised if Humphrey doesn't break up with her tomorrow." She pauses, grazing fingertips lightly over Chuck's bare shoulder. "And to be honest, Chuck, I don't think you can take care of yourself as well as you think."

Chuck's jaw becomes rigid. God, is Blair right, and he knows this, but what would it look like if the words actually took form?

Blair notices that Chuck has tensed up and she leans her face down towards his, peering into his eyes. "Hey," she whispers, brushing Chuck's matted hair back from his forehead, "I'm not trying to be mean, Chuck, but I see you. I _know_ you. Maybe not as well as I'd like." She smiles warmly, before continuing, "but I can tell that you're hurting and I'm not just talking about migraines. I don't like seeing you in pain. It's hurting me, too."

Chuck bows his head, embarrassed. "I'm fine, Blair. I'm Chuck Bass, remember?"

"Yes, but you're also human. You aren't exempt from feeling pain," Blair reminds him gently.

_But I _am_ exempt_, Chuck protests inwardly. After all, Bart had conditioned him to permanently seal away his emotions a long time ago.

Chuck simply grunts in response and Blair shakes her head sadly. "Well, just promise me that you'll remember what I said. The Waldorf's excel at everything and that includes listening, so if you ever need anything… _anything_… just know that you can talk to me, okay?"

A nod lets Blair know Chuck hears her words. "Alright… well, since you're feeling better, I guess I'll just be going," Blair says, moving to stand up.

As the brunette walks towards the door, Chuck calls out, "Wait."

Blair stops in her tracks and turns around, her arms crossed over her chest. "Yes?"

"Come here for a second. I want to show you something." Chuck rests his chin on the edge of the bathtub, giving him the appearance of an innocent child.

Sighing, Blair walks hesitantly towards Chuck. "Tell me it's not your penis."

"You've already seen that," Chuck retorts with a smirk. When Blair reaches the edge of the tub, Chuck beckons her downward. "Closer," he says, kissing Blair's lips tenderly when she obliges.

All of a sudden, Chuck wraps his arms around Blair's slender waist and pulls her on top of him, getting her Diane von Furstenberg dress soaking wet. "Chuck! You are going to _wish_ all you have is a migraine when I'm through with you!" she screeches, struggling to wrench herself free of Chuck's embrace.

"Easy, Waldorf, relax," he coaxes Blair, who finally falls still at the opposite end of the tub, curls matted against her skin and a scowl fixed upon her face. Chuck sits up and leans across the length of the tub, trapping Blair beneath him. He brings his face close to Blair's, his breath hot on her skin, and Blair's scowl starts to fade as her eyes linger from Chuck's lips up to his eyes.

"I thought you said you weren't in the mood," she whispers shakily.

Chuck buries his head in Blair's damp hair and grazes his teeth against her neck before pulling back and admitting, "I wasn't, not until you tended to my ailing health, so come on, Nurse Blair, indulge your patient."

Blair's face lightens. She giggles, shaking her head as Chuck starts playing with the zipper on the side of her soaking wet dress. "Only you would get away with this, Chuck Bass."

_Maybe a propensity for migraines isn't so bad after all_.

**xoxo**

_So what did you guys think? This was a really fun chapter to write. I love sick!Chuck. I always imagine he'd be a stubborn SOB to take care of! Anyways, thanks for the reviews for the last chapter, and I hope you enjoy this one!_


	14. Chapter 14

**The Thawing**

_Chuck never knew his heart could beat until he saw Her. Multi-chap about Chuck's first encounter with Blair. AU, CB._

**Disclaimer:** Don't own, don't sue.

**xoxo**

A thin, filtered ray of sunlight peeks through dark curtains.

Cracking one eye open, and then another, Chuck inhales sharply through his nose and rubs a hand over his forehead and through his hair.

The alarm clock informs Chuck that it's 9:50 in the morning (also known as far too early for a teenager to wake up on a national holiday). He closes his eyes again and turns on his side, making to drape his arm over Blair's waist and thank her for helping him the previous night.

Chuck grasps air.

"Blair?" he calls out.

The door to Chuck's bedroom creaks open slightly, and Blair's head pops through the crack. "Morning," she greets him, opening the door fully with a bump of her hip. Chuck moves backwards against the headboard, and sits up, craning his head slightly.

"Well, well, Waldorf. What did I do to deserve this?"

Blair enters with a breakfast tray that holds two mugs of coffee, three beignets, and a bowl of freshly washed berries. While the gesture appears magnanimous, the look on Blair's face is somewhat more difficult for Chuck to read. "For starters," Blair comments casually as she sets up the tray over Chuck's lap, "you bought a certain ex-boyfriend of mine a one-way, first-class ticket to Paris without consulting me first, and, what's even more astounding, you managed to keep it a secret from not only me, but also from Gossip Girl. What an achievement, Bass!" She clasps her hands together in mock adoration.

_Someone definitely woke up on the wrong side of the bed_, Chuck notes, wondering why women so thoroughly enjoy wrapping dubious intentions in such pretty wrapping (or in this case, beignets).

Cheeks burning, Chuck forces himself to focus on the tray in front of him. What immediately pops out to him is not the deliciously glazed French pastries or the bright red strawberries, but his own iPhone neatly displayed next to the cup of coffee. Chuck wills his hands to steady as he reaches for the phone and sees on the screen the text conversation between himself and Andrew, detailing where Casey had been staying.

Chuck slams his iPhone down on the tray, pretending not to notice Blair jump, startled. "What do you want me to say, Blair? That I'm sorry? That I regret sending that arrogant, self-righteous woman beater back to where he belongs? I hate to break it to you, but that's not happening. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever," he growls defensively as Blair quirks an eyebrow as if to challenge him. "And what about you? You went through my phone. Are you going to apologize for that?"

Blair's lips are pursed in a thin line as she crosses her arms over her chest. "Your stupid cell wouldn't stop vibrating this morning so I went to shut it off, and what do you think I saw? A text from your private investigator saying that Casey's plane had just touched down and that all 'went according to plan'," Blair hisses, making mock quotation marks in the air. "You know what, Chuck? I don't need you interfering in every little aspect of my life! I can take care of myself!"

"Right, because you're doing a real fine job of _that_, aren't you?" Chuck replies callously, gesturing towards Blair's bruised face. He looks away from Blair and takes a huge bite out of one of the beignets, chasing it down with a gulp of coffee. "Thanks for breakfast, Waldorf," he adds nonchalantly.

Chuck can't help it. He does what he has to do to solve a problem, and what happened with Casey was no different. _Blair will see that eventually, _he tells himself inwardly as he tries to avoid her stare.

Blair's lower lip wavers as a hand flies to her cheek self-consciously. Chuck prays to whatever's out there that she turns on her heel and leaves, because he can't stand to watch her crumble and he certainly doesn't want to stop eating these heavenly pastries. To his surprise, Blair takes a deep breath and sits down on the bed beside Chuck. Her voice softens but sounds more resolved, and suddenly Chuck loses his appetite. "I don't have the energy to fight anymore," she tells him, "Not about this, not about anything. I wanted to start new with you, Chuck, to begin a relationship the _right_ way, not under some veil of secrecy, but look what happened. You lied to me. How is starting a relationship that way any better?"

Chuck sets his pastry down and turns to look at Blair. "I didn't lie to you. I just didn't tell you. Everything – sending Casey away, pursuing you like a madman, _everything_ - was for your own good, Blair," he says earnestly. "You just need to realize it."

Goddammit, Chuck thinks as he sets the breakfast tray aside, he knows Blair better than she knows herself! How the hell can she be so blind?

Sighing, Blair replies. "Lies of omission are still lies, Bass. Look, I know that Casey and I weren't meant to be together. I know, for some inexplicable reason, that I wanted to be with you. I know that you had my best interests at heart all along. But you know what else? I know that this will never work because you can't be honest with me and you don't know how to treat me as a partner. All I am to you is a damsel in distress."

When she begins to move from the bed, Chuck grabs Blair's hand desperately. "Wait, Blair, don't go. Please. We can fix this. We can make it work. You just… you can't leave. If you leave then you're walking away from us."

"Let go, Chuck," Blair commands.

"No." Chuck tightens his grip on her hand.

His eyes fix on hers and neither blink, as if there's a stand-off and the winner takes all. Mere seconds go by, although it seems like hours, and Blair's eyes suddenly close, exhausted. She lets herself collapse on the bed and Chuck eagerly wraps her in his arms.

"I'm so tired, Chuck," she whispers, "of all of this. I need a break."

Chuck buries his face in the crook of her neck, relishing in Blair's soft, vanilla-scented skin. "I know, and I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you. I promise," he vows, voice muffled against Blair's neck,"I won't let you down."

"I shouldn't have yelled at you like that."

"I deserved it."

"Yeah, you did," Blair says, smiling though Chuck can't see it. "But can you do me a favor, Chuck?"

"Anything," he relents.

Blair turns in his arms, big sparkling eyes pleading. "Let me make my own decisions. I'm a big girl."

Chuck bites his tongue as he runs a hand down Blair's arm. "And what if it's a wrong one?"

"We'll see, now won't we?" she smiles.

Pressing his lips to Blair's forehead, Chuck draws back and smirks. "That we will."

Blair grins deviously. "Now we'll just have to convince Serena that she's made a wrong decision. As partners, of course," she adds.

Chuck sweeps his eyes over Blair's slender form, which is sheathed in his white dress shirt. His heart - the one organ that Chuck Bass could've once sworn he'd been missing - clenches at the sight of her. Perfect, pristine, posh… partner. Yep, that one will fit in Chuck's endless list of adjectives describing Blair Waldorf.

**xoxo**

_So, this was the last chapter! I really hoped you all enjoyed the story. Truthfully, I wasn't expecting it to end so soon but it felt right. I was sitting, thinking, wanting to write more but when it came down to it, this is the natural end. Thank you guys for all the wonderful reviews... It's been fun!  
_


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